


Is it possible that there are no coincidences?

by DisplacedWarrior



Category: Agent Carter (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Carol/Gloria background, Cartinelli - Freeform, F/F, Flashbacks, Steve and Angie grow up in the same neighborhood, implied stucky - Freeform, past steggy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-05
Updated: 2015-08-29
Packaged: 2018-03-21 02:47:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 49,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3674589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DisplacedWarrior/pseuds/DisplacedWarrior
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The war took something from everyone. Peggy Carter lost a chance at love and a sense of purpose. Angie Martinelli lost three brothers, doesn't matter only one shared her blood. Now they've found each other but don't know they're already connected by ghosts from their past.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Angie drags the huge trash bag to the dumpster in the alley way out back. Cursing her boss for what felt like the hundredth time that day. She was a waitress for chrissakes trash runs were not on her list of responsibilities.  
  
“Just twenty more minutes” she mutters “and then it’s just you and some schnapps and maybe if you’re lucky —“ She cuts that train of thought off immediately, she refused to think about Peggy. Things had been going pretty well after she opened up to Angie the night her co-worker died.  
  
Peggy had possibly said more words to her that night than during the entirety of their friendship. After quite a bit of schnapps she even mentioned her lost love from the war. Unfortunately that combined the two topics Angie liked to avoid at all costs romance and casualties of war. Her unease was outweighed by seeing her typically composed friend so distraught. Angie got the feeling the woman hadn’t really let herself go like this before so she simply held her, stroking her hair and letting her cry. A bit after the tears stopped and the comfortable silence ebbed Angie fell back on her default setting, cheery chatting. She broke out her most amusing anecdotes, even a few from her time working the munitions factory. Not everyone knew explosives occasionally led to hilarity instead of despair.  
  
At some point they must have both drifted off as Angie woke up still in her uniform with a hell of a hangover and Peggy draped over her torso. She panicked for a full minute while attempting to slip away without waking the other woman. Angie held her breath when the movement caused Peggy to stir and open her eyes. She paused mid-stretch looking around in confusion for a split second before she met Angie’s wide eyes and smiled. Angie felt herself relax as Peggy bid her good morning and excused herself to wash up without any hint of discomfort.  
  
Following that night Peggy accepted more of her invitations, even occasionally extended her own. She still cancelled plans with questionable excuses but the look of genuine regret and honest attempts at making it up to Angie went a long way.  
  
There were quite a few early mornings or late nights at the phone company, which Angie would believe is where she actually worked the day she saw Miriam Fry drinking tequila on top of a scantily clad male hooker above the first floor.  
  
She shook her head as if doing so would physically dislodge the thought. She couldn't stop the shudder that ran through her, why did she do these things to herself? She tried desperately to scrub that image from her mind. Maybe if she drank the entire bottle of schnapps?  
  
But yeah things had been swell, there were even times where Angie thought maybe, just maybe Peggy shared her more than friendly feelings. Then she disappeared without so much as a cheerio.  
  
It had officially been four days since she last saw Peggy. She came in on a lunch run and said she’d be at the Griffith for dinner. Since then nothing. Angie’d been ready to bust the other woman’s door down or file a missing person’s report but then Ms. Fry said something about a family emergency and well Angie was pissed. There was concern mixed in sure because god help her she was dizzy for the dame but evidently she didn’t even rank a hastily scrawled note or a message left with Fry who she clearly spoke to. So Angie was angry and worried and angry about being worried and twenty minutes left in her shift was twenty minutes too long.  
  
She was about to head back in when she felt something bump into her leg.  
  
She looked down and saw a scruffy little dog that had definitely seen better days. The poor thing was probably brown but he was covered in enough dirt to make it debatable. His ribs were sticking out and there seemed to be blood matted in his fur. He looked up at her with big eyes, his mangled ear flopping when he tilted his head. Angie reached out hoping to see how bad the injury is was when the door behind her slammed open.  
  
Her boss took one look at her squatting on the ground and sneered.  
  
“I’m paying you to work Martinelli, not play with vermin.”  
  
She whirled around ready to give him a piece of her mind but she caught the look in his eye, her mind flashing back some neighborhood kids who liked to tie firecrackers to strays.  
  
She calculated that the dog’s best chance was getting the mutt out of her boss’ sight immediately. So she pasted on her best chastised smile and ushered the man back inside.  
  
“Sorry sir, won’t happen again, looks like I should hurry with squaring everything before closin'.”  
  
He grunted and vacated through the front entrance leaving Angie to take care of the straggling customers and lock up.  
  
Typically she’d be grumbling about her good for nothing boss leaving her to handle close-up. Again, waitress, closing not in the job description but today she was glad. By the time she finished up it was ten minutes past her shift’s official end, instead of dwelling she grabbed a box, some extra dishrags, water and leftover meat and exited through the alley. This time she was greeted by a wet nose pressing through her stockings.  
  
She knelt down to clean him up some and check his wounds. Once the blood was off he didn’t appear to be in awful shape. While he ate she layered the box with the extra dishrags and set it up some ways down from the Automat’s dumpster. He wandered over after devouring the meat and climbed into Angie’s lap.  
  
“I wish I could take you home with me little guy but Miriam would have a cow.”  
  
The dog stopped its nuzzling and let out a soft growl which was around the same time Angie heard footsteps approaching. She slipped out of her heels brandishing one of them as weapon. It was quiet but she sensed someone was lingering in the dark. The continued growling by her side validated her senses.  
  
“Come on out! It’s been a long day and I ain’t gunna hesitate to shove this heel somewhere unpleasant!”  
  
“Angie, you really shouldn’t threaten unknown assailants! There are some rather dangerous people about.”  
  
“What can I say I’m just a scrawny gal from Brooklyn too dumb not to run away from a fight.”  
  
The words came out purely on instinct, her mouth running before her brain kicked into gear. Angie was in the middle of pinching herself to make sure she wasn’t dreaming when Peggy materialized from the shadows. Which meant she missed the falter in Peggy’s step and the hitch in her breath when Angie’s words registered.  
  
Oblivious to the words she uttered let alone Peggy’s reaction to them Angie shouted Peggy’s name flinging herself towards the woman nearly knocking her over.  
  
“Where the hell’ave you been? I been worried sick! You just disappeared this is New York City ya coulda been at the bottom of the Hudson for all I knew and then I find out you had enough time to tell Ms. Fry you’d be gone but couldn’t even find time to pass along a ‘I ain’t dead’ to Angie” She punctuated all this with a few strong jabs to Peggy’s shoulder before calming a bit.  
  
“Are you okay? What about your family? Fry said something about a family emergency? Did you go all the way to England? ”  
  
Peggy looked a bit bewildered at the onslaught both verbal and physical. Looking closer Angie could see the fatigue etched in the other woman’s face and was that alcohol she smelled on her breath? She decided the inquisition could wait until they were back at the Griffith at the very least.  
  
“Come on English let’s get you home” Finally seeming to regrasp her control of the English language Peggy manages to croak out, “I believe that’s my line.”  
  
“Really now? never knew I came across as English.”  
  
That Peggy once again became flustered made it clear that she was far from the top of her game. The exhaustion of the past few days and switching of time-zones caused the celebratory drinks to hit her a bit harder than usual. After a few of the agents left to go home to their wives and girlfriends, Peggy was gripped with the sudden _need_ to see Angie. She steadfastly refused to dig any deeper into motivations simply bidding Thompson goodnight and heading straight to the Automat hoping to catch Angie before she ended her shift. .  
  
“That’s not what I…what I meant...That is to say..” Peggy was having a rare difficulty getting out a sentence much to the amusement of Angie. Noticing the smile threatening to break out across Angie’s face Peggy managed to draw herself up and in inject some semblance of dignity into a short but complete sentence.  
  
“I am here to escort you home.” And damn if Angie didn’t swoon just a smidge at the turn back to her typical airs of sophistication.  
  
“That’s right chivalrous of you, doll.” If Angie didn’t know better she’d swear there was a blush staining her friend’s cheeks.  
  
“Yes, well, I do try.”  
  
Angie was about to reply, she how far she could push this into flirtation territory when she noticed they were being followed by her new furry friend.  
  
“I thought I told you to stay put?” A heartbreaking whine was the only response. Angie placed her hands on her hips and put on her best stern face.  
  
“We talked about this, you gotta stay here.”  
  
“Ah, Angie, dear you do realize he cannot actually understand you, yes?”  
  
At which point Angie and the small pup both turned their heads towards her in what Peggy would swear were identical 'you’re an idiot' faces. If there was anything Peggy knew it was how to choose your battles so she wisely raised her hands in a placating manner.  
  
“Although….”  
  
“Angie, Ms. Fry would kick you out on the spot.”  
  
“Jeez English I know, I wasn’t about ta suggest bringing him back to the Griffith. I was thinking more my parents’ house, it’s been a few years but uh…it was sort the neighborhood’s unofficial animal shelter for awhile.” Angie looks a bit sheepish and Peggy can’t help but grin.  
  
“I bet you were adorable bringing all sorts in off the streets”  
  
“Shut up English…still you shoulda seen the time I came home with a rat I thought my Ma was gunna have a heart attack right there in the kitchen. I don’t think I ever saw J laugh so hard.” Angie trailed off gaining a distant look in her eyes. After the silence stretched a few beats too long Peggy became a bit concerned.  
  
“Angie….Ang are you quite alright you disappeared on me for a minute there” Angie jolted from her thoughts offered up a sad but genuine smile.  
  
“Yeah, sorry English animals weren’t the only strays I had a tendency to bring home is what my Ma would say if ya asked her. I was just thinking about some friends… it’s been awhile…since…ah anyway I ever tell you about TC ?” Peggy filed away the reaction for later. A simple answer was about all the brain function she was capable of at the moment.  
  
“Hmm not that I can recall, I believe I’d remember such an odd name.”  
  
“Well it’s a nickname obviously, kid had the luck of the Irish that's for sure, got into more fights than a professional boxer with none of the skill but he always stood back up. And I think he had every type of fever known to man at some point. Used to tease him about being a cat, nine lives and all but there was already a girl on our street named Katherine, Kat for short and ‘sides he’d say if he was any kind of cat he’d be a fierce jungle cat like a tiger. It was funny ‘cause even when he was grown he was smaller'an me. So I said maybe a tiger cub and somehow it became TC which stuck for some reason.”  
  
Peggy swallowed hard, schooling her features best she could. The last few days had been filled with haunting reminders of Steve more blatant than the visceral echoes she lived with daily. Angie’s friend sounded so much like the Steve she fell in love with that she was struggling to retain her composure. She had already spent a night crying on the poor girl over him and she was not keen on repeat performance so soon or at all really. Tears had no place in the kind of night she'd like to spend with...  
  
She cleared her throat determined to focus on the present, refusing to indulge the pull of exhaustion and alcohol towards her more base thoughts. Be them melancholy or.. She cleared her throat once more, “Isn’t it a bit late to be showing up on your parents’ doorstep with a puppy though?”  
  
“I suppose. Well I think he’d be alright if we left him in the courtyard for the night, even if Fry finds him it’s not like she could trace it back to us.”  
  
“Well come on then you can tell me about you’re youthful misadventures on the way.” Angie gave Peggy a brighter smile, scooping up the dog with one hand and grabbing Peggy's with the other, pulling her towards the Griffith. All while animatedly launching into the story of the first time she met her childhood friend.  
  
Neither of them noticed their hands remained intertwined for the duration of the walk home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd so all my mistakes are my own.
> 
> I'd love to hear any feedback because quite frankly I'm terrified about this whole multi-chapter thing.
> 
> Next chapter will be a flashback and Peggy's thoughts on waking up on top of Angie will make an appearance at a later date.
> 
> Shout-out to [ exerciseindisguise](http://exerciseindisguise.tumblr.com/) and [ magicmumu](http://magicmumu.tumblr.com/%22) whose responses to my tumblr post helped spawn this from a minor plot point in a totally separate one-shot I'd been working on to it's very own multi-chapter fic.  
> Anyway hope I'm doing it justice.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do not mess with little Angie...

_“Girls can’t play baseball.” Angie kicked a bottle that skittered into the street._  
  
_“I’m a better hitter than Tommy is and I’m younger.” Six year old Angie Martinelli’s angry words had no audience._  
  
_"Got a pretty good arm too." She huffed. Angie should have been in the park under the watchful eyes of her brothers._  
  
_Her mother’s words of warning rang in her ears, “Stay close to you brothers angel.”_  
  
_They had arrived at the park together and some other kids had invited the siblings to play a game of baseball. Angie was excited until they told her she’d have to be a cheerleader ‘cause girls can’t play ball’._  
  
_Which was dumb._  
  
_She was a girl and she could definitely play but her brothers just shrugged and told her she could always go home._  
  
_Well Angie Martinelli was not going to sit around and cheer for some stupid boys. She also wasn’t going to spend a sunny day inside just cause her brothers were being mean. So once the game started she slipped away deciding to find her own adventure. And if her brothers got in trouble because they were supposed to be watching her well maybe it’d teach them a lesson._  
  
_Angie wandered through the neighborhood looking for something fun to do. She climbed a few trees and made some new squirrel friends. Eventually she found a group of kids playing stickball. They didn’t care that Angie was a girl. She lost track of time with the sun on her face and the scrape of wood on asphalt in her ears. Until one by one the rest of the group was called in for dinner._  
  
_Angie figured she should start making her way home too unless she wanted to be in just as much trouble as her brothers. She was about halfway to her house when she heard noises coming from a nearby alley._  
  
_Far too curious for her own good Angie went to investigate. As she approached she saw a little boy around her age dangling upside down, some older kid with a firm grip around his ankles. The boy was struggling but it didn’t seem to be doing much good as the kid and his friends laughed. As she got closer she heard the boy yelling for them to stop, that she didn’t hurt nobody. It was then Angie noticed a third boy crouched down tying something to protesting cat._  
  
_Despite being upside down the boy caught sight of Angie and started to shake his head, moving his hands in vague gesture that was probably meant to convey run away. Unfortunately his movements only drew the others’ attention to her. At the tender age of six Angie already wasn’t the type to run away from situations. Even ones she probably should._  
  
_“Well what do we got here, wanna see a show pretty little lady.”_  
  
Angie did not like the way he spoke. His eyes made her uncomfortable, they were dark despite being blue and reminded her of some of the fancy men around the neighborhood her mother would casually usher her away from.  
  
_His words set off a new round of fruitless kicking from the suspended boy. His captor just chuckled, letting go of one ankle so he could root around in his pocket. Even with only one hand holding him aloft the boy wasn’t able to squirm out of the grip._  
  
_The boy who was crouching must have finished his task because he turned around shouting,_  
  
_“Ya got it or not Will?”_  
  
_The newly identified Will just nodded, finally pulling some matches out of his pocket. A sick grin crawled across his face as he tossed the matches over “Light ‘er up Robbie.”_  
  
_It was then Angie realized exactly what was tied to the cat’s tail._  
  
_Fireworks._  
  
_Fireworks that had just been lit._  
  
_Which aw hell naw. She’d say an extra Hail Mary tonight for thinking the bad word. And another two like she always had to after getting into a scuffle with her brothers. Suddenly she was thankful for those meat-heads and their roughhousing. This Will kid was roughly the same size as her oldest brother Frankie and Angie knew how to use her tiny frame to knock_ **him** _down._  
  
_A scream tore from her throat startling the three boys whose attention was fixed intently on the cat, Robbie rubbing his hands together in anticipated glee._  
  
_She didn’t give them a chance to react as she barreled toward Will. She ran full force aiming her head right into his stomach. He finally lost his grip on the boy more out of surprise than any real damage Angie's small frame had done but Angie gave him zero time to recover immediately planting her bony little elbow right in his crotch. Will fell to his knees howling in pain and Angie used this opening to shove him into a conveniently placed pile of trash where he became stuck._  
  
_Robbie advanced on Angie while their third friend scrambled to try and pull Will out of trash heap he was tangled in._  
  
_Robbie lunged but Angie danced out of the way before clambering up onto his exposed back. He clawed trying to pull Angie off as she wrapped her hands around his head tiny fingers digging into his eyes._  
  
_During the mayhem no one noticed the other small boy scramble up when freed, racing over to untie the explosives from the cat. Angie who was struggling not to be thrown off of Robbie finally did notice._  
  
_And suddenly got an idea._  
  
_Angie threw her body to the left forcing Robbie off balance. As he tried to right himself he stepped backwards towards a dumpster. Angie then used all of her rather insignificant momentum to pull him straight backwards. It didn't matter though as gravity did the rest and they both toppled into the dumpster._  
  
_Angie crawled over a dazed Robbie and yelled at the boy toss her the firecrackers. The fuses were almost out and she could see the slight panic on his face but he did as he was told. Angie caught the first two fumbling a bit and catching the bottom of her dress with sparks. She quickly stuffed them deep into Robbie’s pockets before practically jumping out of the dumpster. She grabbed the shell shocked kid along with the last firework._  
  
“ _Cat!”_  
  
_He bent down scooping up the kitty and she nodded._  
  
“We need to go, now.”  
  
They were past the dumpster by the time she finished her sentence and almost clear of the alley when she lobbed the last firework towards where Will’s friend had almost succeeded in pulling him from the trash.  
  
_“Know any shortcuts across the train tracks?”_  
  
In the distance she could hear the whistling and bangs from the fireworks finally exploding and even she knew enough that they did not want to stick around for that aftermath.  
  
_The boy just nodded leading her to a different alley with a crumbling hole in the wall just big enough for the two of them to squeeze through. They scurried across the empty tracks before Angie broke the silence._  
  
_“You can come back to my house. My ma can fix you up and feed ya, you’re kinda skinny."_  
  
_“So’re you.” Her new friend looked kinda mad or maybe sad. She wasn’t sure why, her nonna was always telling her she was too skinny and to eat something._  
  
_“I didn’t mean nothin’ by it, my ma says that to everyone, my nonna too and then they try feedin’ ‘em.”_  
  
_He looked slightly comforted by this but didn’t respond._  
  
_“So ya got a name? I’m Angie, Angie Martinelli.” She stuck her hand out like she’s seen her father do._  
  
_“St-t-teve Rogers.” He looked at her hand apprehensively but took it all the same._  
  
_“Do you live near here? I don’t think I seen you 'round before? We look 'bout the same age. I go to St. Simon and Jude but l don't think I seen you there neither.”_  
  
_Steve blinked, he was unaccustomed to other kids saying so many words to him._  
  
_“I go to P.S. 95.” Angie looked really excited at this piece of information._  
  
_“So that means no nuns right?!” She lowered her voice as if people were eavesdropping, “I really don’t like the nuns” Her nose wrinkled “but don’t tell my ma I said that” She added._  
  
_Angie continued to chat while Steve mostly listened supplying a few words here and there. As they continued walking, he noticed that for the last few blocks she got quieter and quieter until it was suddenly silent. It unsettled him. Her bubbly words had successfully distracted him from earlier events and their sudden absence was jarring._  
  
_“Uhm are you alright” Angie stopped sitting down and drawing her knees up to her chest. It was then Steve noticed just how young she really looked. He hadn’t noticed it before what with the getting the jump on two larger guys or the following bouncy cheerfulness._  
  
_“That’s my house.” She jerked her head up indicating the house behind the wall of the tracks. He waited for her to speak again but after a few more minutes of silence he sat down next to her._  
  
_“My brothers were watchin' me, but they wouldn’t let me play with 'em. So I ran away. I wanted them to get in trouble but then..” She gestured towards the cat. “ ’m not allowed to play with fireworks, Nicky and Frankie can, on the fourth ‘a July, 'cause they're the oldest but I’m too young. Ma says she don’t want me gettin' hurt. Me and my brothers we fight a lot but…never..” Angie trailed off burying her face in her knees._  
  
_Then she whispered, “I didn’t want to hurt anybody.” Steve didn’t know what to do so he awkwardly put his arm around Angie’s shoulder. She buried her face in his chest and he hesitantly patted her hair, like his mom would to him when he was sick._  
  
_“Well I think what you did was really brave and if you hadn’t they probably would have killed…hey she needs a name, what d’ya think?”_  
  
_Angie lifted her head scrunching up her face, “Lucky.”_  
  
_Steve smiled and scratched behind the cat’s ears, “I think she likes it.”_  
  
_They were both quiet again._  
  
_“You know they probably would have really hurt me too. I wasn’t really looking to end up in the hospital again so soon.”_  
  
_“Again?”_  
  
_Steve looked embarrassed, “I get sick a lot and beat up.” Angie seemed to ponder this for a moment._  
  
_“You don’t run.” Steve tilted his head at her statement. She had clearly latched on to the latter part of the explanation and her response both intrigued and surprised him._  
  
_“That’s the first time anyone’s ever said that without it being a question.”_  
  
_“Running doesn’t work, somebody pushes you, ya gotta push back.” She had that fierce look in her eyes again._  
  
_Steve looked at her curiously, “How old are you anyway?”_  
  
_Now it was Angie’s turn to be embarrassed, “Six. I’ll be seven soon.”_  
  
_Steve looked at her with wide eyes shocked that his savior and new friend was almost three years younger than himself._  
  
_“Six?!” He would not admit to squeaking out the question._  
  
_Angie just laughs._  
  
_“My da says I should stop trying to grow up so fast and that my brothers are a bad influence.”_  
  
_Steve regains his composure and nods solemnly the way grown-ups do when they say things like that. “I’m sure he’s right, also um you probably shouldn’t tell your mom exactly what happened with the fireworks.” This time it was Angie looking at him with really wide eyes, nodding hard enough that Steve was worried for an irrational second that her head would fall off._  
  
_Angie meanwhile was already adding another Hail Mary to her mental tally for the upcoming fibbing she was about to do. She stood up brushing herself off rather pointlessly and reached her hand down towards Steve, “Come on, let’s get this over with.”_  
  
_“Angela Teresa Martinelli where have you been? I’ve got the entire neighborhood out looking for you!”_  
  
_Angie looked up making her eyes as wide as she could, “I’m sorry mama, the boys wouldn’t let me play with them. They said if didn’t like it I should go home so that’s what I tried to do but I got lost.”_  
  
_She had planned to let a few fake tears roll down her cheeks to cement her brothers’ fates but faced with telling her mother what happened she found herself crying for real , “and then there were some kids tying firecrackers to lucky‘s tail.” She elbowed Steve in the side and he reluctantly inched forward holding up the cat in proof but mostly as a shield._  
  
_She launched herself into her mother’s arms, “He was trying to stop ‘em but they were bigger and I couldn’t do nothing but I’m alright mama. We all are.”_  
  
_Stella Martinelli tried to retain her composure throughout Angie’s story, she got the distinct sense honed after thirteen years of child rearing that her dear angel was leaving out some important details. However the roughed up appearance of her daughter and new friend citing a run in with large bullies and explosives had her fingering the rosary in her pocket rather than launching an interrogation._  
  
_After four rambunctious boys she realized it would be her precious headstrong baby girl that would be the death of her._  
  
_She whirled around to where two of Angie’s brothers had come in part way through Angie’s story. “You two. Go tell everyone we found your sister.” They started to slink away at the order but before they got far, “Then get back here with your brothers, the whole lot of you are in a world of trouble.”_  
  
_“Alright let’s get the two of you cleaned up, then we should get you home I’m sure your parents are worried sick.”_  
  
_After the two boys had disappeared and injuries were being attended to Steve nervously piped up, “It’s just me and my mother, ma’am and she’ll be at work for a while still.”_  
  
_Angie’s mother looked down at the small sickly looking boy her daughter brought home, her decision made without any real thought._  
  
_“You’ll stay for dinner.” Steve looked like he might have been about to decline but she continued “It wasn’t a question young man. You and my Angela, both too skinny, need to eat” Angie shot Steve an ‘I told you so’ look. “My husband will take you home after dinner.”_  
  
_As it turned out Robbie was in Nicky’s year, Will and his friend John in Frankie’s. Will and John had some minor burns but it took Robbie week to return to school and he did so with a noticeable limp. Rumors abounded ranging from Mafioso entanglements to escaped convict run-ins. The boys spun an epic tale in which they only escaped with their lives because of the fireworks they had on them._  
  
_Of course Nicky had seen his sister when she got home that same day. Scrapes on her knees, scratches on her arm, the bottom of her dress singed, a story involving three bullies and fireworks on her lips. He quickly put together a clearer picture of what had actually happened._  
  
_After that realization her brothers tended to go along with whatever Angie said, pretty fond of all their body parts where they were and impressed as hell with their little sister. They certainly never let anyone say she couldn’t play ball with them again._  
  
_Steve became a fixture in the Martinelli household after that first night. He rarely missed a meal save for the few days his mother didn’t work and the many days he spent in the hospital for some aliment or another. Most of those days saw Angie with him for company. Occasionally she shared the bed next to him when the spot of trouble they found themselves in proved to be too much for either of them to handle._  
  
_Those days lessened dramatically however after an addition to their duo._  
  
_That day found Steve alone, with Angie off at dance practice, cornered by two ‘regulars’ when it came to beat downs. Those days never did end well but this one turned the tide._  
  
_“Where’s your little friend, it’s so much more fun when we get to wipe the floor with the both of you.”_  
  
_Steve was stubborn and Angie was scrappy between the two of them they managed to avoid death in any particular situation thus far._  
  
_Circumstances without Angie simply tended to equal more blood on Steve’s end._  
  
_A few years older, with no Angie on the horizon, Steve did what he had always done. He spit the blood from his mouth and he stood back up. Before they could land another hit however a new voice joined the fray._  
  
_“Now, now fellas if it’s fun you’re lookin’ for how’s about we dance?” the quip came from a dark haired boy that Steve couldn’t place._  
  
_The others turned their attention to the newcomer but there was no dancing, just two solid punches landing in quick succession knocking both of them out._  
  
_“You alright kid?” Steve tried not to get too annoyed seeing as the guy just saved him a likely hospital trip with the added bonus of seeing two of his tormentors laid out. Still he’d reckon they were about the same age._  
  
_“I had ‘em on the ropes, they were gunna to get tired eventually. Steve Rogers” he holds up his wrist “or so the near permanent hospital band says.”_  
  
_“James Barnes, but you can call me Bucky.” He likes Steve, kid’s got spunk, the kind the world tries to beat out of ya or maybe the kind that’s the result of life dealing you a shit hand. Either way._  
  
_“Ya know I hear running works wonders.”_  
  
_“I got Asthma” Steve deadpans._  
  
_Bucky studies the weak, scrawny-looking boy, Asthma seems pretty likely but he just knows that ain’t the reason and yeah he’s starting to like this kid way too much._  
  
_“Alright well don’t break too many fists with your face, slugger.” He turns poised to walk out of Steve’s life forever like the strangers they technically are._  
  
_“Hey, wait, uh I never said thanks.” Bucky smirks and Steve loses his train of thought._  
  
_“Still haven’t.”_  
  
_Steve narrows his eyes, “Well anything I can do to repay you oh humble one?”_  
  
_Bucky ponders this. He should say no. He did his good deed for the year and now he should move on. Leave the kid to whatever fate’s got planned for him._  
  
_“Nah it was nothin’, wouldn’t say no to some grub if ya got it though.”_  
  
_Steve smiles and Bucky knows he made the right choice._  
  
_“I know just the place, we gotta pick someone up first.” Angie’s gunna love Bucky he thinks. In fact he’s sure they’ll get on like a house on fire._  
  
_He tries not think of the wrath of Mrs. Martinelli if they burn down the neighborhood._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because little Angie will fuck you up!
> 
> Also thinking about Bucky and Angie snarking at the world together makes me happy.


	3. Chapter 3

_“Get back here J !”_  
  
Angie took off running after Bucky who had just stolen the other half of her sandwich.  
  
_“Nope it's mine now, Martinelli.”_  
  
He paused to take a bite and that would be his downfall. Quite literally as Angie proceeded to tackle him, grabbing the remaining half and holding it in the air triumphantly.  
  
_Angie made no move to get up opting to finish her food while siting on Bucky's back._  
  
_“And why can't you just call me Bucky like everyone else?”_  
  
Steve finally caught up to them and answered while Angie was busy chewing and glaring.  
  
_He snorted, “Because she didn't come up with it.”_  
  
_Bucky pushed up off the ground, Angie choose to wrap her legs around his middle and hook an arm around his shoulders rather than stand up on her own._  
  
_“But it's a good nickname.” Bucky protested._  
  
_“Exactly so to make up for the fact that you've got an awesome nickname she didn't come up with, you are forever punished with the boring and generic J.”_  
  
_Angie glared some more and pouted for good measure but Steve and Bucky just laughed._  
  
Angie woke with a smile on her face and an ache in her chest.  
  
Her dreams, memories really were no doubt the direct result of last night's conversation and activities.  
  
Smuggling the pup into the Griffith’s courtyard had proved to be less of a challenge than anticipated.  
  
Conversation had halted once Peggy and Angie reached the entrance. Angie's spirited story-telling fading into hushed giggles and an over dramatic performance of subterfuge. The ease with which their goal was achieved brought Angie back to simpler times. Before her mother had given up even the pretense of protesting any new additions to Angie's collection of strays.  
  
Angie tried to shake off the last vestiges of her dream, two distinct sets of laughter ringing in her ears both absent years from her waking life.  
  
She forced herself into an upright position. While she would typically stay burrowed under her covers on this the lord's day, indulging herself in a lazy Sunday routine that only slightly stirred her long buried Catholic guilt, today she felt no desire to linger in bed with only ghosts for company.  
  
Not that she’d admit that reasoning even to herself. Admitting meant acknowledging and….and well she should really go check that the puppy had not incurred Ms. Fry’s wrath. It was the _responsible_ thing to do after all.  
  
She thought for a moment about knocking on Peggy’s door to rouse her for breakfast as she had yet to hear the rustling of activity. But she decided to let her sleep, pushing down the petty part of her that wanted to violently wake the other woman up demanding the answers she let slide the night before.  
  
She recalled Peggy's decline from plainly exhausted into pretty much sleep walking by the time they stealthy reached the third floor. Mission accomplished.  
  
Peggy struggled to place her key into the lock and Angie had taken pity on the woman gently taking her keys then ushering her through the opened door. She helped wipe the make-up off her face and removed the other woman’s shoes. She tucked her in, clothes and all because that was a line she was not crossing unless explicitly invited.  
  
Peggy had been asleep by the time her head hit the pillow. In all likelihood before.  
  
Angie had reached out without conscious thought tracing the faint line of a scar above Peggy's brow, leaning down to place a soft kiss on the spot.  
  
The tiny display of affection had felt so natural that it wasn't until she bid Peggy a quiet goodnight that she even realized she'd done it.  
  
She was so focused on scurrying from the room while mentally berating herself that she missed the slight upturn of lips and a sleepily mumbled “ 'nite, Ang.”  
  
Urge to stomp over to Peggy's room averted Angie resigned herself to a longer wait for her explanation.  
  
Finishing up the bare minimum of make-up required to look 'presentable' she sighed it wasn't as if she was technically even owed any justification. Unfortunately that line of thinking led nowhere Angie was emotionally prepared to deal with at present.  
  
It became apparent by the time Angie made it downstairs that the little mutt had in fact been discovered. She was rather excited to find that he had somehow managed to become the unofficial mascot of the Griffith in the few short hours since she left him.  
  
Evidently Gloria had noticed him wandering around and he soon gained an instant fanbase, with half the Griffith’s residents fawning over him. Angie snorted as she saw him absolutely hamming it up over the attention.  
  
Angie wasn’t surprised by the girl’s reaction to the adorable creature. She was however shocked that Fry gave her approval of his staying at the Griffith. With the stipulation that he remain in the courtyard, of course, he was under no circumstances allowed inside the establishment.  
  
One of the girls from the second floor had even mentioned her father was carpenter and maybe they could build him something to keep him dry during storms.  
  
Angie wondered for a moment if they had succeeded in bringing the dog in only because Fry had LET them...before quickly deciding it was best not to dwell on those kinds of thoughts.  
  
Already starting to feel better Angie sat down in her usual seat finding a bunch of the girls chatting amicably about their plans for the day.  
  
Gloria and Carol were apparently going to take advantage of the nice weather with a picnic in central park. Angie hid a smile behind her toast at knowledge there was something more going on there.  
  
Evelyn said she was headed to Queens to visit family, a niece's birthday.  
  
And Sarah had a date. Color Angie surprised. Which left her pondering her own plans now that lazing about had been crossed off the itinerary.  
  
It had been a while since made the trek over to Brooklyn for Sunday dinner. She tried not to think of the scolding her ma would give her if she knew she spent most of her Sundays lazing about in bed, very much not in the house of god dressed in her Sunday best.  
  
Perhaps it had been too long since she’d been back to the neighborhood. Even if she no longer needed the use of an impromptu animal shelter she supposed a visit wouldn't be a terrible idea.  
  
She tried to remember the last time she had actually set foot in her old home. Was it a random Sunday dinner? Gio's birthday? It hadn't been Easter. She shuddered thinking about the the loud Italian bouncing off the Griffith's walls as her mother yelled into the phone about Angie missing the holiday. Some other holiday then?  
  
Racking her brain wasn't really accomplishing anything and she found herself missing her nonna something fierce as she thought about it.  
  
She relished the freedom that came with living at the Griffith hotel. The reputation of Ms. Fry's establishment along with the code of conduct offered an otherwise absent respectability to a host of women who were trying to make their way in a man's world on their own terms.  
  
The 'no men above the first floor rule' was a blessing in disguise for Angie along with at least half of the Griffith's other occupants. As for the other rules well they tended to be much easier to break without punishment.  
  
She didn't miss her tiny bedroom or the almost complete lack of privacy. She didn't miss having to be on guard even within he confines of her own room. She didn't miss the pointed comments or the increasingly awkward set ups with her mother's friend's cousin's son or what ever tangential relationship the boy from that week had.  
  
But she did miss her family, she pretended not to hear the small unfair voice in her head that whispered what's left of it.  
  
Mind made up she was left muttering “Bensonhurst here I come.”  
  
She got off the N train and rounded the corner, passing her uncle's hardware store situated next to her uncle by marriage's Salumeria on the way. Both doors displayed signs reading closed on Sundays, their owners were probably already seated around the table in her Ma's basement.  
  
It would take her nearly 25 minutes and a cramp in her arm from cheerfully waving to make the barely block long trek.  
  
Old man Degennaro's fig trees were ripening early this year and he just couldn’t let her leave without some tomatoes from his garden.  
  
Mrs. Ippilto asked for some help to get sneaky boots the cat out of a tree. Evidently Angie hadn’t lost her animal whisperer reputation. Of course climbing tress in dresses was considerably easier when you were eight.  
  
The Tumberella‘s daughter was getting married and their son was expecting his second child .  
  
And has she met any movie stars yet or have some good lookin' fella sweep her off her feet?  
  
She finally made it to her own door and quickly let herself into the basement to avoid anymore conversation with her well-meaning neighbors. The delicious smells of dinner and the snippets of loud conversation from further in the house hit her as soon as she stepped inside . She leaned back against door closing her eyes and taking a minute to reorganize her thoughts.  
  
The respite was brief however as a tiny solid mass ran straight into her legs. Reaching down to affectionately ruffle her niece’s hair, she made it the rest of the way into the house with Gabriella wrapped tightly around her leg.  
  
Excited screams of “Aunt Angie” “Zia Angie” and some plain “Angie's” of varying proper enunciation greeted her immediately.  
  
She nodded to her cousin Isabella, the girl was a few years younger than Angie herself and had clearly been put on kid duty.  
  
The children were typically ‘banished’ to the siting room out of the way of the cooking adults and the rest of the grown-up conversation, leaving one or two of the young adults or teenagers to corral the rascals before too much mischief was achieved.  
  
Isabella was outright laughing as Angie was swarmed by the miniature humans and pretended to die a valiant death as she disappeared under the dogpile.  
  
She would have preferred to stay out there fielding questions like ‘what do you think eels dream about?’ (it wasn't Christmas why was there an eel in the bathtub?) and playing hide and seek (She could definitely still fit in the crawlspace behind the piano).  
  
Alas it seemed the ruckus had drawn the attention of the adults as well and Angie knew that hiding even with the excuse of entertaining the children wasn't an option.  
  
She made the rounds kissing everyone on the cheek. When she was finally almost done and god she really did hate this part of being Italian couldn’t she just wave and be done with it, she caught sight of her nonna beckoning her over. The old woman offered her a conspiratorial wink and snuck her a fried meatball fresh out of the pan.  
  
It was something she'd done as long as Angie could remember, everyone else got their hands slapped away with her trusty wooden spoon but there was always a fried meatball for her Angel.  
  
Angie wrapped one arm around her shoulders hugging her tight happily munching on her prize. Nonna chuckled dropping a kiss on her forehead and then swatted her away with the mopine off her shoulder but not before slipping her one more meatball.  
  
Dinner is boisterous affair. Angie lets it sweep over her, she’d forgotten how much she missed this part of being around her family. Everyone is talking over each other in English and Italian and combinations of the two.  
  
Angie herself is part of at least five separate conversations. She loves the ebb and flow, how everyone is communicating despite the apparent chaos.  
  
Aside from the look her mother shoots her occasionally it's like she hasn't been away at all.  
  
The food gets passed around and Angie observes everyone over her plate of cavatellis. Not much has changed from what she can tell.  
  
Uncle Giuseppe still needed to take it easy on the homemade grappa. He wasn't.  
  
Her cousin Joey was still miserable dating Rosemary again. He'd broken up with the girl he loved because his mother didn't approve of her Irish heritage.  
  
Her Uncle Anthony was still 'yes dearing' every ridiculous thing that came out of her Aunt's mouth.  
  
And her cousin Anthony no relation to the aforementioned still believed no could tell the difference between the rug on his head and real hair.  
  
So really business as usual.  
  
All her brothers were present, Nicky with his wife and kids and Gio with his latest girlfriend, even Tommy brought a friend along tonight. Seeing all of them together in this room makes the figurative empty spaces seem glaringly obvious.  
  
Later she helps clear the dishes, steadfastly ignoring the conversation as it turned to politics. She was sure to disagree with most of what was being said and she had learned the hard way over the years giving voice to her opinions in this arena wasn't worth it.  
  
She moves with efficiency borne from years of doing similar tasks even before waitressing. Her aunts abandon the men talking politics and descend like vultures on Angie leaving her to deftly dodge inquires into her love life and concerns about her ticking biological clock.  
  
When she feels the coppery taste of blood from biting her tongue too hard she excuses herself to get some air.  
  
She climbs the rickety iron ladder to the roof and finds Tommy already up there smoking a cigarette.  
  
“Ma’s gunna box your ears when she smells the smoke on you.” She accepts the cigarette he wordlessly offers despite her comment. She takes a drag while he lights up another.  
  
“It’s been a while since you’ve been around.”  
  
“Been busy between the automat and auditions” She isn't lying but they both know why she hasn't made the time to come around more. “‘sides it’s been a few hours and there have already been 57 variations of the question when am I gunna find a man and settle down.”  
  
Angie leans on the roof’s ledge ignoring Tommy’s answering chuckle at her disgruntled expression.  
  
She tosses a pebble and watches it bounce into the street.  
  
Listens as a train rumbles on the tracks behind the house.  
  
The smells of herbs and simmering meat have given way to the scent of coffee drifting through the air, not strong enough to drown out some of the more unpleasant smells of the city  
  
Her eyes flit across the street landing on Gina Armanti's apartment. It's been years but she still remembers the sleepovers where tentative kisses led to her first awkward fumblings.  
  
_Her mind flashes back to a particular morning of playing hooky, hands under shirts ghosting across bare skin and furtively exploring underneath uniform skirts. She remembers the look of terror in Gina's eyes when the front door opened unexpectedly. Remembers them springing apart and how Gina all but shoved her out the window three stories up._  
  
_Which is how Angie ended up hanging from her fingertips on the outside ledge praying to a god that the nuns said wouldn't help her anyway._  
  
_Later, hours after Gina had hauled her back through the window tearfully apologizing but telling her they had to stop doing this. She sat in Bucky's room adrenaline still skittering over her body from her near death experience._  
  
_Steve sat there looking very concerned but before he could say anything Bucky just clapped her on the back, wiggling his eyebrows and made some vulgar comment about finger strength._  
  
_Steve might have voiced the confusion painted across his face not that Angie noticed she was too busy trying to beat Bucky upside the head with a textbook._  
  
She flicks her cigarette watching the ash fall, some of it floating on the breeze.  
  
She moves to brush the ash that landed from the ledge when her fingers find a charred spot that extends down onto the bricks below. She trails her fingers over the blackened area, recalling the 4th of July it happened.  
  
_She was fourteen, her mother had done her best to keep Angela out of the typical neighborhood 4th shenanigans over the years still suspicious about the day Steve accompanied her home._  
  
_It was late in the afternoon when Frankie had run over grabbing Angie's hand and pulling her away from the cool spray of the johnny pump someone had unscrewed._  
  
_He dragged her up to the roof shoving a piece of scrap metal through the hatch effectively barring anyone else from gaining access to their location._  
  
_Angie watches as Frankie starts emptying the sack that was slung across his back. Her eyes widen as he starts pulling out the largest array of fireworks she's ever seen in her life._  
  
_“The DiBella's have declared war on the Martinelli's for this year's firework fight” he declared solemnly._  
  
_“So we're retaliating by blowing up their house?” Angie asks eyeing the final firework Frankie pulled from the bag which is a huge freakin' rocket._  
  
_Frankie narrows his eyes “That mouth is gunna get you in trouble one day sis.”_  
  
_“So ma tells me but..” Angie makes an exaggerated hand gesture in the direction of the huge firework in question instead of finishing her sentence._  
  
_“These aren't for the fight are you insane, we're not trying to kill people.” Angie just shrugs. “Gio's been trying to get with Alessia DiBella, you know how he is when it comes to girls he'd betray us all in a second if she bats her eyes at him. So Tommy and Bucky should be infiltrating enemy territory as we speak. Nicky and Steve are defending our turf.”_  
  
_“Okay that explains the hatch but not why we have enough firepower to level the block.”_  
  
_“Sixteen is a big deal, especially for him.”_  
  
_Angie swallowed hard the past year had been rough, Steve had gotten cold after cold that winter he couldn't shake, then scarlet fever which turned into rheumatic fever and then the heart trouble. Angie had spent a lot of time in the hospital with Steve over the years but she had never been afraid he wouldn't make it home before this year._  
  
_“Well he loves fireworks, I think he'll be real happy.” Then she slapped Frankie's shoulder. Hard. “How come you didn't tell me before now?”_  
  
_“Because you would've been so excited that ma would've known something was up for sure.” He teased. “Besides I wasn't sure I'd be able to get this stuff I had banked on cousin Marco but with the move to Canada...my friend Lee though, his family makes fireworks for the Chinese New Years celebrations, he helped me out.”_  
  
_Angie grinned a bit manically at this point picking up the nearest firecracker and twirling it through her fingers. If Frankie noticed he ignored her keeping focus on the task at hand._  
  
_“Once it's dark Bucky is gunna get Steve up to Gina's roof and—_  
  
_“Hang on why Gina's roof?” Frankie tilted his head._  
  
_“Bucky said she owed you a favor?” Angie raised her eyebrow but said nothing so Frankie just continued._  
  
_“When they're up there Bucky's gunna give Steve a sparkler and that's our cue.”_  
  
_They spent the next hour organizing and setting things up, Frankie explained each type of firework and Angie orchestrated the order in which they'd set 'em off._  
  
_Dusk eventually passed but it didn't stay dark for long. Angie and Frankie ran across the roof lighting fuse after fuse. The night exploded in blinding colors._  
  
_The explosions in the sky rattled windows and echoed for miles. Each set of whistling brought new colors and patterns. The entire neighborhood stopped to watch the sky in awe._  
  
_They stood there suspended for seemed like ages. By the flickering light of the continuous fireworks Angie could make out the sheer joy etched into Steve's face even from this distance. She felt her smile grow when she noticed that Steve and Bucky weren't just standing close together but that their fingers were intertwined. She lit the remaining fireworks until only the rocket remained._  
  
_She leaned into Frankie as they watched the last few explode. They waited a few beats while the sky became dark again and some of the thick layer of grey smoke dissipated._  
  
_Then they lit the final rocket._  
  
_The fuse was the longest one and as they watched it burn, marking the bricks below, Angie had the sudden thought that maybe they should move a bit father back for this one. She grabbed Frankie's hand and scrambled to the far end of the roof. The following explosion was like nothing they'd ever seen._  
  
_The single firework erupted in an expanding shower of red,white and blue. The boom was deafening and knocked them both off their feet. She was pretty sure it broke a few windows as it rattled the very foundation of the building beneath them. If they thought the display up til now had been impressive..._  
  
_Of course it was entirely possible there MAY have been a telephone wire casualty and maybe a slightly derailed train....a few minor car wrecks..._  
  
_Basically the Martinelli's were banned from celebrating the 4th of July within city limits after that._  
  
_But damn was it epic._  
  
She rolls the stub of the finished cigarette between her fingertips.  
  
Tommy hands her another one, she stares into the glowing embers, follows the wisps of smoke trailing upwards with her eyes. She tries not lose them against the blue of sky. She can feel Frankie by her side. See Steve's smile and Bucky's smirk.  
  
“I miss them, Tommy”  
  
“I do too Ang.”  
  
They finish their cigarettes in silence.  
  
When they go back downstairs, Angie barely dodges her mother's hands aiming for her ears. Tommy isn't as lucky.  
  
There's coffee and cake. Cappuccinos and ganol’. Milk and cookies for the kids and always the seemingly endless chatter.  
  
When she finally leaves it’s with promises to her mother that next time won’t be such a long time away.  
  
She's surprised to find she means it.  
  
And when her ma calls down the block after her to maybe bring someone special next time, Angie tries to ignore the immediate image that pops into her mind of brown curls and blood red lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mopine = dish towel  
> ganol' = cannoli, at least I think it's legitimate slang and not just how most of my family pronounces it but I could be wrong.  
> Johnny pump = Brooklynese for a fire hydrant. I know the term is pretty prevalent around NYC as a whole but especially Brooklyn and lower Manhattan. I know when I went Massachusetts for college I got some interesting reactions for using the term. Idk if it's still a thing nowadays but it's what my grandfather and father grew up calling 'em and it sort of trickled down to me.
> 
> Also I am here for snarky bisexuals Carol and Gloria, I don't think I'm going to get to write them into this story but I will eagerly read anything anyone else writes utilizing them.
> 
> If you spotted the super unsubtle Bomb Girls reference hit me up and let's be friends.
> 
> And finally who the hell is Gina Armanti? The name wouldn't leave my head, has someone else used it in a Cartinelli fic? is she a character from something? did I go to high school with her? Basically if anyone knows they should tell me 'cause it's been driving me nuts.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! I am so sorry this chapter has taken so long to make an appearance. There was some life stuff and some writer's block then I wanted to get the bulk of it written so I wouldn't leave ya'll hanging again. 
> 
> This chapter is just a lot of Peggy feeling things....

Peggy practically floats out of the telephone company's building. The lingering exhaustion she felt when she dragged her still clothed body out of bed that morning had faded. The taste of blood in her mouth to which she'd become accustomed, her personal price of staying employed, was absent. Chief Dooley's comments weren't any less asinine than usual and he was as condescending ever but he had also told her to go chase her lead.  
  
It was the opportunity she'd been waiting for, biding her time with assignments of lunch orders and filing.  
  
Securing a place on the Russia mission was only the beginning and while the constant need to prove herself was exhausting. This was the chance she had been waiting for to demonstrate she was in fact as capable as her rather impressive service record suggested.  
  
It truly had been tempting to stay with the Howling Commandos where she didn't need to prove a damn thing to anyone. Duggan's offer that they could always use another good fighter had been a balm to her soul. She absolutely knew her value but constantly being undermined solely because she was woman made her long for the days she could throw some punches and be done with it.  
  
She did still need to clear Howard's name however and while it was nice to be back in the action again it did feel like the right time to put her days on the front lines behind her.  
  
Besides she had a feeling Leviathan would continue to be thorn in her side for some time and if minding the wheel back in the states got too boring she'd know where to find her commandos.  
  
And now that she was off chasing a lead with the chief's blessing it'd be a welcome change to work again without the threat of being accidentally shot in the name of the law by her own co-workers.  
  
Granted the bounce in her step might be a tad too enthusiastic for woman about to hunt down a deadly Russian assassin brainwashed since childhood.  
  
She sobered a bit as the reality of her task began to come into focus once more. What Leviathan was doing, to children no less, it was abhorrent. She had seen many tragic and despicable things during the war but the crimes committed against children.  
  
Those never got easier.  
  
After witnessing what that girl and lord she couldn't have been older than ten was capable of in Russia. The thought of a fully grown woman with even more training in addition to experience was downright terrifying.  
  
Which led her to, Mr. Jarvis. Though reluctant the fact remained she would need to call the man. Her most promising lead at the moment, rather unfortunately was Howard Stark. She really supposed she should have puzzled it out sooner, perhaps not the secret training facility brainwashing children part but if there was one thing that could render genius Howard Stark a fool it was a pretty face.  
  
It was obvious, really and she was kicking herself for not thinking of an infiltration of Howard's security by means of seduction. It was a trick she herself had used countless times. She spent so much time resenting the fact that there were very few people who did NOT underestimate her. And yet she never once considered this angle.  
  
Why?  
  
Why hadn't she considered a female operative when it was clearly the most obvious way to get to Howard.  
  
The thought would continue to eat away at her making each failed attempt to reach Stark's butler or god forbid Howard himself all the more infuriating.  
  
By the time she finally got a hold of Jarvis, which you had better believe once she and Howard were on speaking terms again they would be having a serious discussion about his sheer volume of 'reachable' numbers and a damn procedure in case of emergency, it was only to learn Jarvis was out of town for the day with his wife.  
  
She tried several tactics including threats and well mostly just various threats. She was still rather irked at him but to no avail. He simply would not be able to make it back into town to be of any real use today.  
  
His assurances that he would meet her at the Automat as soon as he got home the next morning ready to offer any aid that would be required did very little in the way of appeasement.  
  
After hanging up Peggy needed to take a number of deep breaths to calm herself.  
  
She was so very close, she was sure if it. The feeling pulsed through her veins. It was strong enough that she almost feared spontaneous combustion without a productive way to channel the energy.  
  
She considered heading back to the SSR but doing so early without any new evidence felt a bit like defeat. She opted instead for a quick phone call to confirm her suspicions that the Chief was still busy with Ivanchenko and likely would be for the remainder of the day.  
  
At the confirmation that was indeed the case she elected to continue working out of the office . The kind of focus she needed at the moment would be easier to achieve out of that environment anyway.  
  
Less chance someone would ask her to file something.  
  
She wouldn't be held responsible for her actions if someone broke her concentration for that reason. Of course she would in fact be held responsible and therein lied the problem.  
  
She found a park bench and pulled out a worn leather journal.  
  
_Steve never went anywhere without his sketch book. Peggy always kept her journal somewhere on her person._  
  
_He asked her about it once as they sat together, only the scratching of pencil against paper and the occasional distant explosion breaking the silence. At least until he leaned over excitedly to show her what he'd been working on. It was a suspiciously cute sewer rat of all things that appeared to be wearing a ribbon fashioned into a bow._  
  
_She had yet to come up with a response when he tapped his elbow gently into her side and nodded toward her own work._  
  
_She had wordlessly passed him the book, page open from where she was writing. She watched as his brows furrowed, his head tilted slightly in confusion. His eyes moved rapidly across both pages trying to make heads or tails of what he was seeing ._  
  
_There was hardly any white space left. He could pick out at least six languages, some sentences appeared to be comprised entirely with each word from a different language. There were symbols and numbers, lines crisscrossing every which way , some connecting obviously important key points while the intersection isolated others._  
  
_All of this of this seemed to be penned atop a rough drawing of a map with schematics squeezed into the corners. of what? Steve couldn't say._  
  
_He squinted as if the simple gesture was somehow the key to cracking the code before realizing he was never going to understand without some sort of explanation from Peggy . So he made a big show of turning the book every which way, making exaggerated sounds of consideration._  
  
_She had laughed at his antics but still smacked his shoulder and snatched her journal back._  
  
Peggy found herself tracing over the page Steve had puzzled over, all that time ago. They were working on another rescue and every variable she could think of was on those pages.  
  
The use of that journal had always been her way of seeing the picture from every conceivable angle, helping her find weakness in a strategy before it could be exploited by the enemy. Her reputation for brilliant tactician was part of the reason she had gotten as far as she had among the ranks of the British Secret Intelligence.  
  
She pushed all other thoughts aside and turned to a blank set of pages. Soon ink sprawled across the pages until she was satisfied every scrap of information concerning Leviathan had been mapped out.  
  
After closing the journal gently, Peggy leaned back and stretched, hissing when a few joints protested their immobility and cracked back into place.  
  
The act of physically sorting through the information had defused some of the tension she had been feeling. She felt a crisp focus wash over her, rejuvenated by a few new insights and clear plan of action for the upcoming day.  
  
She decided a stroll was in order to let her mind wander in the hopes that any additional information that had been forgotten or overlooked would surface.  
  
Unfortunately she failed to take into account that letting her mind wander would give free reign to the thoughts she had so meticulously bottled up over the last few days.  
  
Steve.  
  
The onslaught of emotion from her neat little compartments bursting open caused her to physically stagger, requiring the aid of a nearby wall to catch herself .  
  
Steve was never far from her mind, almost daily there were little reminders of the life they could have had together. The kind of life a young Peggy Carter decided would never be for her. Her parents had high hopes for their only daughter not least of which included high profile marriage and children. Such hopes were dashed long before she came of age.  
  
She was a natural observer of people and when it came to the way men tended to treat the women around them, even those they claimed to love. She detested what she saw.  
  
Resented it even. Amidst the infidelity, casual cruelty and dead dreams Peggy saw nothing that indicated love was the beautiful force people claimed it to be.  
  
And so she deemed the entire business of love not worth the cost, declaring her intentions of spinsterhood during her youth. Society’s scorn meant little to her if the price of their approval was her freedom.  
  
Steve had changed that for her. She met him and absolutely despised the way the love songs suddenly made sense. In him she also found the rarity of immediate respect.  
  
The betrayal she felt when it briefly appeared he was just like rest of the men she'd had the displeasure of knowing was unparalleled.  
  
She had maimed men for accusations similar to those he made about her relationship with Howard but at the end of the day she conceded that he was just shite at speaking to women but not intentionally malicious.  
  
And after she calmed she could hardly even blame Private Lorraine for her forwardness, being in the middle of a warzone really brought about a live for the moment mentality.  
  
Steve would never force her to compromise who she was for the sake of them being together. And so she let herself imagine settling down, getting married.  
  
She still can't quite comprehend how losing something she never wanted could hurt so much.  
  
Steve's steady presence in the back of her mind was like a wound that hadn't healed quite right. It was a chronic pain she had adjusted to until it became almost comforting in a way.  
  
But being back with the Howling Commandos who knew Captain America as he truly was, more Steve Rogers than world would ever know. The Howling Commandos who had shared in the pain of his sacrifice and soldiered on following Peggy in his stead. Traversing the same front lines where they'd won the war but at unfathomable costs.  
  
It all brought back the raw, bleeding grief like almost no time had passed.  
  
She handled it the way she had then, by not handling it at all. A soldier through and through surrounded by same-minded ilk. They had a mission and any good solider knows emotions will only get you killed.  
  
She slides down the wall of the alley, jacket catching on the rough brick. Somewhere in the back of her mind the thought of crying flickers but there are no tears. Aside from from the few shed over radio static she hadn't cried over Steve.  
  
Instead she threw herself into eliminating HYDRA and winning the war. There was no room for anything else.  
  
There was a job to do.  
  
Tasks to complete.  
  
A war to win.  
  
Carrying on was easy enough when it was to only option afforded to you. When the fight is over that's the hard part, it's the calm after the storm that terrifies her. When the chaos settles and all that's left is the chance to ruminate on the losses, the chance to feel.  
  
No distractions just hollow victory in the face of so much death.  
  
Even after she settled in the states the tears for Steve never came. It wasn't until that night with Angie she unleashed the grief she had bottled up, crying until she could physically cry no more.  
  
She hadn't registered it on a conscious level before this moment.  
  
Which is probably why the realization steals her breath.  
  
_She remembered being embarrassed, unused to letting down her guard in the presence of others._  
  
_As she woke up the next morning eyes almost swollen shut from dried tears, her first instinct had been to run. To rebuild her walls higher than before and never let something like that happen again._  
  
_It was the subtle terror lurking in Angie's eyes when Peggy finally opened hers. Fear of losing everything borne of experience. She had seen it before in her all girls boarding school, in the faces of soldiers she served alongside ._  
  
_She hated seeing it on the face of dear, sweet Angie who had done nothing but comfort her the night before and now hardly looked to be breathing. So Peggy curled her lips into a reassuring smile. She forced herself at ease and when she felt Angie relax she couldn't regret her decision even as internally her emotions went haywire._  
  
In the present, on the ground, in an alley Peggy's head hits unforgiving brick as she leans backward struggling to breathe. Her eyes are open but out of focus, her surroundings lost to inner turmoil.  
  
She had forsaken love long before she ever experienced it. She hadn't counted on Steve Rogers blundering into her life and mucking up all she was certain of. She knew it then he was special, that he would be the only man she would ever love. When she lost him, she lost a future of possibilities.  
  
She had thought Steve was the great love of her life.  
  
Then she stumbled into the L &L Automat.  
  
She couldn't pinpoint when exactly the young waitress had wormed past her defenses. She did it so effortlessly it was if she had always been there.  
  
By the time Peggy noticed, she was already in too deep. Every attempt at distancing herself from Angie backfired as Angie either dug in her heels and refused to budge or put on a brave face that was awfully transparent for an actress. Those instances cut Peggy deeper than if the woman were to simply burst into tears.  
  
Somewhere along the way Peggy had begun compartmentalizing her feelings for Angie shoving them into a dark corner in the back of her mind.  
  
If she didn't acknowledge her feelings they simply didn't exist  
  
Peggy was an incredible liar and that skill did in fact extend to lying to herself.  
  
Besides she was still mourning Steve for god sakes.  
  
She would always love him but he was gone and she was here and knowing he'd want nothing but her happiness did little to assuage the guilt churning in her gut .  
  
It took some time blankly staring at the sky before she finally managed to pull herself together enough to begin making the journey home. Her thoughts were still a jumbled mess but she forced herself to place one foot in front of the other.  
  
A few blocks from home she passed a flower shop. Her feet carried her inside without thought. It wasn't until she heard the clearing of a throat and a “Can I help you with anything, ma'am?” That she realized she was running her fingers over a selection of violets. Without her meaning them to thoughts of Angie flooded her mind  
  
She payed for a bunch of the flowers, doing her very best not to actually think about what she was doing. She carefully placed them into the bottom of her purse, determined to forget they were even there for the time being.  
  
She didn't know if she would follow through with giving the bouquet to Angie but she was certain of at least one thing.  
  
Angie deserved a proper apology.  
  
She looked down at her watch. Angie didn't usually work Sundays so chances were good she would be in her room at present. She vowed to come up with some sort grand gesture to make up for worrying the poor girl but for now a heartfelt apology at the very least was in order.  
  
When she arrived at the Griffith she was stopped at the doorway by an excited Carol asking if she'd met the newest resident. She was pleased to find Carol meant the smuggled pup and that he had been so readily welcomed. She paused in her quest for a detour to say hello.  
  
Sitting in the courtyard amongst familiar faces she ruminated on how very much she enjoyed the company of the Griffith's residents. It was nice to be among so many women who shared a desire to actively pursue life.  
  
Angie's seal of approval carried some weight and many of the women had taken an immediate liking to Peggy as a result. She only made it upstairs after some minutes of fielding questions concerning her recent absence.  
  
She knocked on Angie's door but there was no answer. She pressed her ear against the wood detecting no movement from the inside.  
  
Curious.  
  
She managed to reign in her instinct to barge in or subtly pick the lock, it wouldn't do to invade the other woman's privacy on top of everything else.  
  
She supposed she would just have to wait until Angie returned.  
  
In the meantime she could always go over her intel once more.  
  
More likely her time would be spent trying to sort through her mess of emotions concerning the sassy blue-eyed Brooklyn natives monopolizing her thoughts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm not super ecstatic with how this chapter turned out but quite frankly I got tired of rewriting it.  
> As always love to hear your feedback. Next chapter'll be up as soon as I finish formatting it.


	5. Chapter 5

Angie made it back to Griffith armed with enough leftovers to feed a battalion. She bypassed her own door completely and headed straight for Peggy’s.  
  
She wasn’t quite ready to be alone yet, still reeling a bit from her trip home. Her memories were raw and the sudden absence of noise even after only a few hours was jarring. Besides someone owed her an explanation and she was planning on collecting.  
  
She raised her hand to knock.  
  
She had barely gotten through the second rap when the door was thrown open by a grinning Peggy Carter. Peggy's emotions had run the gamut since retiring to her room but she was powerless to stop the way her face lit up at the mere sight of Angie.  
  
“Angie I’m so happy to see you. I tried stopping by your room earlier but you weren't there.”  
  
Some distant part of Angie's brain urged her to lower her eyebrows and close her mouth or at least respond in some way but Peggy had managed the rare feat of rendering Angie Martinelli speechless.  
  
Of all the scenarios that played out in Angie's head Peggy's exuberance was not one of them.  
  
She figured Peggy would still be out of sorts at the very least and she even considered the scenario in which Peggy tried avoiding her again but Peggy seemed determined to decimate every last one of Angie's expectations.  
  
Stunning Angie as she continued, “I wanted to apologize. I’m afraid I was a bit out of sorts last night and I realized I never actually expressed the sentiment. I truly am sorry. I never meant to make you worry.”  
  
At some point during her dialogue Peggy had reached out and grasped Angie's hands, rather awkwardly considering the small feast Angie was balancing.  
  
And maybe if Angie had been less shocked or spoiling for a fight she might have pulled away. Might have let the anger she had been feeling over the last few days fuel her into picking a fight but Peggy Carter lookin' at her with those bring brown eyes full of regret. Lord help her she just couldn’t stay mad at the damn woman.  
  
“Well I appreciate the apology but I believe there was talk of explanations.” She could see the struggle clearly in eyes that were usually shuttered. Peggy was weighing her options and Angie felt herself holding her breathe awaiting the outcome.  
  
“I wasn't actually attending to a family emergency. It was a sudden and rather urgent work matter.” Peggy nearly surprised herself with amount of truth in the statement.  
  
“For the phone company?” The skeptical eyebrow Angie raised would have belied her disbelief if her tone hadn't given it away.  
  
“I swear to you Angie , if I could tell you I would.” They were toeing a dangerous line, Angie could almost see the weight of the secrets heavy on Peggy's shoulders. Secrets that would spill from those lips hesitantly if only Angie pushed.  
  
“I accept your apology on one condition,” Peggy looked ready to get down on her knees and grovel if Angie asked it of her.  
  
Resolutely shoving aside thoughts of Peggy on her knees, Angie lets her squirm a minute longer than absolutely necessary before breaking out into a grin.  
  
“You help me finish some of this food, I swear my ma doesn’t know how to cook small portions.” As if on cue Peggy’s stomach grumbled ruining the glare she was attempting to pin on Angie for her fake out.  
  
“Jeez Peg did you forget to eat today or somethin'?” The mortified look adorning the other woman’s face is enough of an answer for her. She bustles around the kitchen snatching a plate and utensils, piling it high with left overs and pushing it toward Peggy.  
  
When everything is set she reaches for Peggy’s hand causing her to look up into Angie’s suddenly serious eyes. “Just promise me next time you’ll find a way to let me know, that you won’t just disappear.”  
  
Peggy hesitates a moment before finally answering, “I promise I’ll do everything in my power.”  
  
Angie ignores the uncertainty implied in the words themselves in favor of the fierce determination burning in Peggy's eyes.  
  
The heavy moment is broken by another protest from Peggy’s stomach that has Angie dissolving into a fit of laughter. She watches in amusement as Peggy shovels food in her mouth, never tiring of the proper appearing woman's complete lack of grace while eating.  
  
“So you decided to pay a visit home after all?” Angie can't help but marvel at the woman's ability to speak intelligibly even while her mouth is stuffed with food.  
  
“Yea, realized I couldn't actually remember the last time I was there.” Peggy waits for Angie to continue but nothing follows.  
  
She just stares out the window absentmindedly picking at her nails.  
  
Peggy keeps eating head titled in concern at her companions behavior. The silence isn't awkward but it's unusual to be around Angie without the near constant stream of chatter. It has Peggy worried to say the least.  
  
When she's finished her food and Angie still hasn't spoken, Peggy kneels next to her and places a hesitant hand on Angie's knee.  
  
That startles Angie out of her thoughts and Peggy fights the urge to pull her hand back suddenly , “ I know I can be shite at sharing but I am quite the listener.”  
  
It manages to pry a small chuckle out of Angie at least as she places her hand atop Peggy's effectively trapping it there.  
  
“It was hard going back today after I realized I've been avoiding it, used ta go every Sunday after I left. Even when my Ma would try and set me up with a new 'nice Italian boy' every week or my dad would try and talk me out of my acting career, I always went back. 'cause they're family ya know?”  
  
Peggy nods, moving her thumb in soothing circles as Angie continued.  
  
“ My whole life Sunday dinners meant a packed house, family, friends, neighbors, even during the war the people who couldn't bear their empty houses ended up at ours...” the sentence trails off Angie clearly getting lost in her thoughts.  
  
“I ever tell ya I tried to join up?” Peggy blinks at suddenness of Angie's voice as well as the statement.  
  
“Made it through training and everythin', just so ya know yours truly can fly a plane if you ever find yourself in need of a pilot.” Angie brightens a bit at the stunned look on the other woman's face.  
  
“You.....you flew planes during the war?!”  
  
“Nah, said tried didn't I, English? All my brothers 'cept Nicky ended up overseas and I couldn't imagine not going with 'em but I got careless, if I had already made it outta the states, woulda been overlooked most likely but as it was.... ” Angies eyes darkened and questions burned on the tip of Peggy's tongue but she was hardly in a position to be pushing for answers.  
  
“It worked out alright for me in the end, got a job working in the munitions factory instead, put my misspent youth to good use. To be honest I don't think my mother would've survived if I hadn't come home either.” Angie took a ragged breath grateful for the way Peggy's hand lightly squeezed in silent support.  
  
“Gio lost an eye and Tommy was pretty wrecked but they came back. Frankie......Frankie didn't. Neither did TC and J, they weren't blood but they were family, in the end ma loved 'em like her own. She took losing them just as hard as my brother Frankie. We all did.”  
  
“I'm so sorry, Angie.”  
  
“Thanks, English. In the end I couldn't face the empty places at the table. Made excuses, started going round less and less. I was angry at myself for not being over there. Angry at them for leaving. But being back there today I just really missed 'em.” Angie quickly swiped away a few tears that escaped.  
  
“Jesus, I'm a mess. Sorry for being such a downer.”  
  
“Angie, I refuse to allow you to apologize for that. Thank you, for trusting me with this. I know it seems like empty platitudes but the ones we love, they never truly leave us, they’ll always be a part of our hearts.” Peggy's words had Angie fighting a fresh wave of tears.  
  
“Thinking about your solider boy?”  
  
And she was but not in the way Angie meant. She had been spending more time of late trying to reconcile the love she has for Steve with the guilt of moving on. She knew he would want her to live, find happiness, love again but that didn't actually make it any easier. It wasn't the first time since Angie barreled into her life that Peggy felt the pull but it was the first time it didn't seem quite so impossible.  
  
Angie of course was oblivious to the momentous shift slowly taking place inside of Peggy Carter.  
  
The result was her self-preservation mode kicking in. She needed to put some distance between herself and the other woman before she ended up doing something stupid but Peggy's hand was still on her knee. She looked frantically but couldn't find an escape route.  
  
Peggy's hand moving to grasp her wrist stilled all movement.  
  
Angie looked down starring at the fingers warm against her skin but not quite able to comprehend what was happening. Peggy stood pulling Angie up with her, the momentum bringing them well into each other's personal space.  
  
It was then Angie's brain stopped working all together.  
  
They stood there eyes locked, practically sharing breath for what seemed like an impossible amount of time.  
  
Peggy brought her hand up to Angie's cheek whose eyes fluttered closed before she could stop them.  
  
Both of them leaning just that tiny bit closer.  
  
Their lips had barely touched when a sudden crash sounded from the hallway followed by a “Oh golly how could I be so clumsy. ”  
  
Angie jumped backwards tripping over the vanity in her haste. She righted herself, nervously smoothing imaginary wrinkles from her skirt all while inching towards the door. She made no move to open it just stood glaring daggers into the wood trying to regain her composure.  
  
She took a deep breathe before hollering “You alright out there, Iowa?”  
  
“Sure am. I'm just the biggest klutz in anything but ballet shoes. Don't mind lil 'ol me.”  
  
Peggy watched as Angie leaned her head against the wood, the muscles in her back taught, hand unconsciously clenching and unclenching at her side.  
  
Peggy looked down livid at herself for clearly making Angie uncomfortable.  
  
She was drawn out of her self beratement by the sound of Angie's timid voice, “Hey,uh,English?”  
  
Peggy's gaze snapped up never having heard Angie sound quite so fragile only to find Angie frozen, hand hovering near the picture she kept of pre-serum Steve Rogers. Angie looked afraid it would disappear if she made contact with it. Or maybe afraid it wouldn’t.  
  
“Why’dya got a picture of TC?”  
  
“Steve?” Peggy was slightly confused  
  
“Yeah what’s he doing in army fatigues on your mirr… shit…strunz…” Everything clicked into place at once for Angie “you’re telling me STEVE is who you…He’s the one you lost isn’t he.” Angie’s mind was reeling.  
  
Peggy opened her mouth to say what she wasn’t sure but Angie barreled on beginning to pace across the room. She was speaking but it was mostly to herself and Peggy struggled to make out what she was saying.  
  
“Always told him someone'd come around who’d appreciate how great he was didn’t matter ‘bout the packaging. 'course I was trying to light a fire under J's ass not that it ever did any good, I uh can’t believe though that you ended up being little Stevie’s girl... I mean what are the fucking chances.” Angie freezes registering everything she actually just said.  
  
“Marrona mia.” Oh.My.Fucking.God. It figures. She would be head over heels for her dead best friend's girl.  
  
The floor feels like it's crumbling beneath her feet, breathing rapidly becoming an issue. She barely manages to choke out “I’m glad he had that, had you before the training accident.” Then she's gone. Almost before the sentence is finished. The slam of the door echoing in her wake.  
  
Peggy is left staring bewildered, at the empty space Angie just vacated trying to make sense of what exactly transpired.  
  
She tries to grab a hold of her careening emotions, scrambling over to a hidden compartment in her bureau.  
  
She pulls out the copy of Steve’s personnel file she had _forgotten ___to turn into the SSR. She sifts through to his recruitment paperwork. The one with his real information filled out after Erskine recruited him.  
  
There, next of kin, only child, both parents dead but a notification telegram had been sent all the same to an address in Brooklyn, surname Martinelli.  
  
Peggy felt her legs give out.  
  
Killed in a training accident, posted the day after Erskine’s experiment had been a success. Training accident. They never knew.  
  
She thought she had been alone in mourning Steve Rogers while the world grieved for their hero, Captain America but the Martinelli's mourned a son and brother years before his plane crash landed in the ice.  
  
She tried to focus on her breathing. Dots were connecting, memories surfacing in a brand new light. Angie’s stories swirling together with tidbits from Steve and even Bucky filing the gaps. Her worlds were colliding and she didn’t know quite what to make of it.  
  
Her Steve was also Angie’s Steve, Angie’s tiger cub. What were the bloody chances.  
  
The tears that were absent earlier in the day made an appearance as a sob tore from her chest.  
  
Peggy Carter believed in choices not chance. The hard decisions had to be made not left up to fate.  
  
Peggy Carter did not believe in love but she was swept off her feet just the same. She accepted a position in New York City, Steve's home. A part of her hoped she'd feel closer to Steve that way.  
  
She ended up falling in love with Steve's best friend.  
  
It kind of felt like the universe was laughing.  
  
She liked to think it was Steve giving his blessing.  
  
Next door Angie had buried herself under every piece of bedding she owned trying to muffle her own crying. Bucky would've found her being in love with Steve's girl hysterical, at least until it registered that meant Steve was Peggy's guy. She imagined Steve coming home from the war with Peggy on his arm. Bucky wouldn't have been nearly as amused then she'd reckon. They'd probably spend years pining after their respective unrequited loves. It would suck but at least they'd be alive.  
  
God, I hate you both for leaving me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so in the chapter 3 I included two Italian-ish words and since there are bunch more to follow in the course of the story I just wanna throw out here that I don't speak Italian but I did grow up with an Italian American family in Brooklyn. Which is why I decided to go with a slightly different angle for this story.
> 
> So while I do believe Angie speaks fluent Italian what pops up here is going to be mostly Italian-American slang.
> 
> I don't know if some of these words would have been used in 1946. Additionally my strategy was to take words/phrases that have just become part of my vernacular from growing up and use the internet to try and find accurate spellings/definitions. Therefore I take full responsibility for any mistakes, if any of the words seem off to you hit me up. I'd love to chat about it cause I kind of find it super interesting anyway
> 
> strunz=shit  
> Marrona mia= oh my god


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So at no point did I think there would be anything more graphic than some lady kisses in this story but the muse had other ideas? So here have some angsty anonymous back alley sex I guess.....
> 
> I'm just going to apologize in advance so maybe we all can just pretend it never happened and move on...kay? kay. 
> 
> Anyway this will be the the only other full flashback chapter.

_Angie had locked herself in her room approximately four hours ago. Her mother had long since stopped trying to coax her out, throwing up her hands and muttering about difficult bambini, pleading God dammi forza._  
  
_Angie stared up at her ceiling. She hadn't moved since entering and jamming a chair under the door handle. She'd be in trouble for that later no doubt but it was hard to care._  
  
_If she thought things with Gina had ended bad....._  
  
_The part of her brain housing her survival instinct urged her up. Encouraged her to form a plan, to run, to do something, anything besides just lay around waiting for the inevitable._  
  
_But there was an unrelenting ache in her chest and her head hurt from crying._  
  
_She wondered if love was worth it, when pain seemed to be the only guaranteed outcome._  
  
_“Hey, Angie open up, ma says you've been in there for hours.” She couldn't face anyone right now._  
  
_“Go away, Bucky.” with the pounding in her head she didn't realize her mistake until it was too late._  
  
_It wasn't too difficult to hear their lowered voices through the thin wood._  
  
_“Shit, did she just call you Bucky?”_

_“It's worse than ma thought.” The next sentence rang out in full volume, once again addressing Angie._

_“If you don't let us in we're gunna have to use the window and ya know how piss poor Steve's upper body strength is.”_

_“Really, man?” Even Steve's good natured whine couldn't tease a grin out of Angie at the moment._

_They waited but when it was apparent the door wouldn't be opening,_

_“Alright you leave me no choice.”_  
  
_“Angie, please just open the door, Bucky's seriously headed to the roof, is your window even open?”_

_It was but she couldn't even find the energy to get up and close it. What did it matter anyway? She probably wouldn't be getting too much fresh air wherever it was she ended up. Should probably enjoy it while she could._

_She hears his voice before he actually makes it through the window. “ If you wanted me to go away you probably shouldn't have called me Bucky.” He drops neatly into the room like he hadn't just scaled down half a building to be there._

_“That's like air sirens screechin', somethin' ain't right.” He crosses the room to let Steve through the door._

_At least he has enough sense to stick the chair back under the handle when he finished._

_They take a spot on either side of Angie but she just flips over burying her face into her pillow, determined to ignore them._  
  
_“I' ain't eva movin' from this spot .” The words were muffled but the meaning comes across anyway. Steve and Bucky exchange concerned looks over the cocooned lump of their friend._  
  
_“Aw come on doll, can't be bad as all that.” Angie picks up her head to glare at Bucky._  
  
_“Doll, really? 'vaffangul. ”_  
  
_“Got you to move didn't it?” She kinda wants to smack the grin off his face._  
  
_“You know you can tell us anything right?” She can't handle the gentle look on Steve's face at the moment._  
  
_“Quit bein' nice ta me. I fucked up. Monumentally, catastrophically, fucked up.” She finishes, burying her head back into the pillows._  
  
_“So you gunna elaborate on that or......” Steve's bony elbow finds it's way into Bucky's side._  
  
_“Shit punk is physical assult really necessary?”_  
  
_“Ya know guys not even petty violence will help cheer me up this time around.” She sighs heavily and flops over, staring at the ceiling again._  
  
_“I told Hazel how I felt about her, I didn't mean to, it just sorta....happened.”_  
  
_“Clearly she didn't take it well.” Angie laughs but there's no joy in the sound, just a brittle echo grounded in disbelief rather than amusement._  
  
_“You could say that. She's blackmailing me.”_  
  
_“She's what?!” “Shit.” That almost, almost gets a smile out of Angie the simple reactions so typical of their respective personalities._  
  
_“Yeah, turns out she was only even hangin' around with me to try an' get her hooks inta Tommy. Now she's threatening to tell everyone, the family, Father Valinni, everybody at school. Unless I get her a date with Tommy that is.”_  
  
_It's a few weeks later when Bucky shows up at her window in the middle of the night._  
  
_She'd stayed holed up there only leaving for class and family meals. Angie didn't feel much like being around people, it was tiring wondering if every last one of them would turn on her given the chance. Even after the Hazel situation had been...taken care of._  
  
_Angie never does find out how but Hazel avoids her like the plague and no one finds out lavender's her color so whatever they did it was effective._  
  
_She figures they must have brought Tommy in on whatever it was. As few days after her talk with Steve and Bucky he knocks on her door, pulls her into a hug and leaves._  
  
_Later that night a girlie mag shows up under her pillow. Evidently it had been passed down from brother to brother minus Gio, the mariul, as a sort of rite of passage. The gesture is really sweet, schifozz' if she thinks about it too hard but the acceptance warms her heart all the same. She picks the thing up with two fingers placing it in a suitable hiding spot and never looks at it._  
  
_Much._  
  
_But now it seemed Bucky was tired of her hermit routine because he's dragging her out of bed and telling her to get dressed because,_  
  
_“Come on Angie I've got a surprise.”_  
  
_“ Che cozz J, it's after 11, on a school night?!” He doesn’t seem the slightest bit phased as he all but shoves her out the window and really that got old the first time it happened. This time she's prepared at least._  
  
_“ Wait are we headin' for the train?”_  
  
_“Ya ever look up the definition of surprise, Ang?”_  
  
_“ You stunad Ma will have both our hides if she catches us” Angie hisses._  
  
_“Nah, got it covered. If she asks, Tommy's gunna tell her we're keeping an eye on Steve. Ya know on account him not doing so hot but not hospital bad and we wanna keep it that way don't we?”_  
  
_Bucky's grinning but Angie just raises an eyebrow, “and you don't feel the slightest bit bad usin' him like that?”_  
  
_“Nope.” He makes it a point to obnoxiously pop the p. “It's for a good cause, he ain't gunna mind.”_  
  
_That's how they end up in a sketchy alley around midnight that has Angie resisting the urge to cross herself._  
  
_Bucky waltzes right up to a heavy steel door and waits for the slot near the top to open. Two eyes stare down impassively at them in silence until Bucky says “Flamingos can't tap dance.” with a flourish._  
  
_To Angie's utter amazement the door opens._  
  
_Angie skirts around the wall of muscle on door duty, mafiso almost definitely and clearly packing._  
  
_The place is dimly lit, smoke hangs heavy in the air making it even harder to see. She can just make out a large wooden sign, chipped and faded mounted above the bar that reads Sandrine's. The bar itself is long, stretching against the length of the wall in front of them._  
  
_Tables with mismatched chairs that have seen better days are haphazardly strew about. They almost frame out a dance floor. Speaking of floors, Angie tries really hard not think about when the last time this one might have been washed._  
  
_Sometime around the beginning of the civil war if she had to hazard a guess._  
  
_The decor is pretty sparse a few framed photos of varying subjects that don't appear to be related in any way are scattered about along with some sports memorabilia. A pool table that had clearly seen better days is tucked into a back corner._  
  
_Basically it looks like you're average dive bar in Brooklyn, in any town she'd reckon._  
  
_Except for the clientele that is. It's pretty empty being late on a Wednesday but there still a fair number of people milling about. There's a man in the corner seated rather conspicuously atop another fellas lap, a group to the side comprised of men, women and some Angie honestly couldn't definitively put into either of those categories._  
  
_The music switches to something slow and she feels her heart skip a beat when she notices two women intertwined on the dance floor, swaying in a world of their own._  
  
_Angie is drawn away from her observations when Bucky hollers “First drink's on me!”_  
  
_He disappears around the third drink and Angie pretends not to notice when he slips out the back with a much older man. She makes her way over to a corner stool by the bar and leans against the wall watching the other patrons. She knows she'll never get tired of the feeling in her chest mired in this rare freedom to be themselves._  
  
_Her eyes keep wandering to the bartender though, intrigued by the woman who's wearing a man's style shirt, sleeves rolled up and ink covering her arms. Her hair is cropped short, slicked back in the current popular men's style._  
  
_Angie wonders what the woman does with her days that keep her out of trouble looking like that._  
  
_As if aware of the scrutiny the bartender wanders over, taking a minute to give Angie the once-over._  
  
_“Hey kid, you even old enough to be in here?”_  
  
_Angie could try and convince the woman she's older but she knows she looks even younger than her actual age. It hardly seems worth the effort._  
  
_“Nope.”_  
  
_Her answer obviously surprises the woman who asks, “You're not even gunna try and lie?”_  
  
_Angie just smiles a little at the woman's raised eyebrows.“ Are ya gunna throw me out?”_  
  
_“Wasn't planning on it.” And Angie had counted on that. She figures a place like this has enough to worry about. They knew the password so what's a few underage customers in the grand scheme of laws they're no doubt already breaking._  
  
_“Then what's the point in lyin'?”_  
  
_The bartender let's out a chuckle “You're alright kid, name's Sandy.”_  
  
_The woman reaches a hand across the bar. Angie takes it in a brief but firm grasp, the way Sister Agnes told her a lady shouldn't. Even though Angie knows it's how her da told all her brothers they should._  
  
_Sandy saunters off to take care of a few customers on the other side of the bar. She comes back and slides a fresh drink over to Angie nodding “This one's on the house.”_  
  
_After ensuring there's no one waiting to be served drinks she settles against the bar leaning over to plant her forearms comfortably across the top._  
  
_“So what's your story, no one ends up here without one.” Angie considers her options. Bucky had yet to resurface and it's not like there were an abundance of people she could share this side of herself with._  
  
_“My friend was tryin'a cheer me up. Last girl I was sweet on used it as blackmail to try and date my brother, the one before that pushed me out a window.” Sandy looks suitably impressed._  
  
_“So where's you're friend then?” Angie raises her eyebrow and lets out a snort, jerking her head in the general direction of out back._  
  
_“Knowin' him he's the one bein' cheered up at the moment.” Sandy must see the little frown tugging at the corner of her mouth because the next words out of her mouth are,_  
  
_“You don't approve?” Angie takes a minute to mull over the question. She shoots a look over her shoulder just to be sure Bucky doesn't choose this part of the conversation to make a reappearance._  
  
_" He's in love with our best friend but he's too chicken shit ta do anythin' about it.”_  
  
_“It can be dangerous out there.” Angie cracks up before sobering at the dark look in Sandy's eye._  
  
_“Sorry, I didn't mean, I know that, it's just you don't know our friend. Kid's been gettin' inta fights since he could walk. He never was one for bullies. Steve, that's his name, he's good people, the rare kind. It's just, he's gunna be in danger regardless of what the two of 'em do behind closed doors.”_  
  
_Angie risks another glance over shoulder before continuing, “ It's not.... my friend, J, the one who's here? He thinks Steve deserves the stars and the moon, says he deserves better than him but J he's good people too even if he don't think so and they're sorta I don't know made fer each other. Least I always thought so but with Steve bein' pretty oblivious and quite frankly awful at talkin' to anyone he finds interesting, and J bein' so melodramatic..... Just sucks is all, they could be really happy together.”_  
  
_“People like us rarely get to be happy, kid.” It isn't anything Angie hasn't already figured out for herself._  
  
_They become regulars. They try a few different bars over the years but they always seem to come back to this one. It takes awhile but she eventually convinces Bucky to invite Steve along. If Sandrine's walls could talk they'd have a lot to say about Angie Martinelli, Steve 'TC' Rogers and James_ ~~'Bucky~~ ' ' ~~J'~~ 'Bucky' Barnes.  
  
_The war picks up in Europe, Frankie and Tommy both join up despite the U.S.'s non-involvement in the beginning._  
  
_They end up among the first sent overseas when the U.S. officially declares war. With the draft Nicky get classified as 4-F and Gio is just shy of the age requirement but it's only a matter of time._  
  
_After the huge family dinner sending off Frankie and Tommy the trio makes their way over to Sandrine's to raise a glass to the safety of their brothers._  
  
_The night Bucky ships out it's where she and Steve go, desperate for the comfort of familiarity. They get too drunk to make it home, neither of them remembering how the fuck they ended up in coney island, let alone asleep underneath the Cyclone._  
  
_The night Steve heads off to basic training she goes alone and drinks just as much. This time she makes it back to Steve and Bucky's now empty place and she falls asleep in one of Bucky's old shirt's clutching one of Steve's first sketchbooks._  
  
_The telegram about Steve comes a few months later and the family is a wreck. Angie barely manages to make it out of the house, the grief clawing at her throat, her mother's sobs in her ears._  
  
_Angie's knees buckle when she finally steps foot into Sandrine's. Sandy takes her into the back room and holds her while she cries._  
  
_Angie thinks about Steve a lot more after that._  
  
_She feels the pull to contribute, Steve was so passionate about serving his country even though he knew it was most likely a death sentence. Her mother about drops dead from a heart attack when she tells her she's thinking about joining up._  
  
_So she auditions to be a USO showgirl instead. It may not be contributing in quite the way she wants but it'll keep her ma from worrying too much and it'll look good as a start to her acting career._  
  
_Besides there's something about Captain America that feels familiar, like someone she trusts but Angie can't put her finger on it. She figures it's part of how he got the gig in the first place._  
  
_When she gives the audition people her name they look down rummaging through some paperwork. They make her spell it. Twice. Then they ask her if she's got any family serving. One guy disappears and when he returns it's with hushed whispers and side glances in her direction . They thank her for her time and send her on her way._  
  
_She never sang a note._  
  
_She's livid when she relays all this to Sandy. She decides then and there she can't live her life to pacify her others. She needs to be fighting the good fight alongside her brothers._  
  
_She tries to ignore the always haunting thought that maybe if she had just been there, like she always was, then maybe Steve would still be alive._  
  
_So she has to fight the good fight._  
  
_For Steve. For TC._  
  
_She signs up with the Women's Service Airforce Pilots the next day._  
  
_Training is hard but so very satisfying she thinks as she falls into bed at the end of each day._  
  
_Flying is incredible like nothing she could have imagined. They tell her she'll only be delivering planes, that she won't see any action but she's heard talk about a Russian female unit. The say their name translates to Night Witches and their name alone strikes fear into the heart of German soldiers._  
  
_She figures if they can do it she can find a way as well._  
  
_For the first time in her life she's surrounded by so many women like her, it's easy to forget that she's 'wired wrong'._  
  
_And that's her mistake._  
  
_They're shipping out it the morning and everyone is high on some combination of pride, adrenaline, nerves and whisky._  
  
_Which is how Angie finds herself on top of another recruit, Clara in the barracks. Her hand is just snaking it's way past the waistband of Clara's pants when the booming voice of their CO has them springing apart._  
  
_Clara has the gall to shoot her an apologetic look right before bursting into tears, sobbing out how she didn't want to but Angie wouldn't listen. Angie is too dumbfounded to mount any sort of defense._  
  
_They toss her out on the spot and she storms to Sandrine's in a daze still in her fatigues, her eyes wild._  
  
_Sandy catches sight of her confused,_  
  
_“Thought you were shipping out?” Angie had known fear,pain,loss and heartbreak in her young life but never had she felt such despondent fury._  
  
_The look on her face must say it all because Sandy sets down a glass and leaves the bottle._  
  
_Angie looks at the offered scotch, it's higher shelf than she can usually afford. Even so it's not what she wants tonight, the taste of alcohol bitter with once sweet memories._  
  
_She doesn't want the taste of her first drink, stolen out of her father's liquor cabinet and snuck down to the tracks, of Bucky's laugh and Steve's grimace and the pleasant burn in her throat._  
  
_She doesn't want the taste of smuggled moonshine after a hard day of training, of strange hope and a future where tomorrow was not guaranteed but death would come from a freedom some of them never dared dream._  
  
_She doesn't want the taste of the first time she worked up the courage to buy a girl a drink, of family barbecues and secret rendezvous._  
  
_She catches Sandy's eye as she swaps the scotch for two bottles of schnapps instead. Sandy nods at first but shoots a weary eye when she notes the second bottle in Angie's grasp._  
  
_Angie ignores her and downs the first bottle in one terrifying albeit impressive go. She clings to the cloying sweetness with her eyes closed. It's not enough to douse the fire in in her veins, not even close to enough to quiet her thoughts ._  
  
_She pours a glass from the second bottle._  
  
_Then another._  
  
_And another._  
  
_She's half-way through bottle number two when a woman wanders over. Leaning in too close, touches too far from casual._  
  
_Angie slips out the back like she had seen Bucky do that first night years before._  
  
_They crash into a wall seconds after stepping into the alley, a blur of hands and lips and teeth, desperate and raw._  
  
_The woman's moans urge Angie on as she drags her mouth down, nipping until she reaches the juncture of neck and shoulder biting down hard._  
  
_Angie slides a hand underneath the woman's dress, sure fingers bringing her to release._  
  
_Angie doesn't stop when the woman comes, slipping two fingers inside as the other woman wraps a leg around her waist frantically moving, trying to get Angie's fingers deeper._  
  
_Angie crashes their lips together again, swallowing the other woman's whimpers. Angie brings her thumb up to stroke in rhythm with her pumping fingers and it's not long before the woman is coming again._  
  
_When Angie pulls back she can taste blood, she swipes her tongue down realizing it's her own lip that's split._  
  
_The woman is leaning back against the wall, she's beautiful in the moonlight, undone, trying to catch her breath. Something snaps in Angie, this is what she's being punished for._  
  
_They're wrong she'll go to hell. She knows because she's already there._  
  
_She drops to her knees hard enough she can feel the skin tear through her pants. She grounds herself in the stinging pain even as she reaches out to run her hands over the hips in front of her._  
  
_She slides her hand down stalling slightly as she forces back the rage fueled lust for a moment to catch the woman's eye. It's not until she has permission that the haze descends again and she rips the woman's underwear clear off._  
  
_Angie wastes no time burying her face between those legs, losing herself in the taste and feel of the woman trembling above her._  
  
_Distantly she thinks she should worry about them being heard, the woman’s cries echoing off the alley walls but she doesn't care. There isn't much more they can take from her anyway._  
  
_Angie hitches one of the woman's legs over her shoulder, then the other, places her hands in-between bare skin and cool brick, locking her arms to help balance the woman up against the wall._  
  
_She loses track of how many times the woman comes when there's pressure pushing back her head._  
  
_Angie lowers the girl gently and stands on shaky legs. She knows she should say something but reality is crashing down on the waves of too much alcohol in her system._  
  
_She scrambles backwards sprinting back into the bar. There's a flyer for women's positions at the munitions factory down by the docks underneath her bottle when she returns._  
  
_The startled look on Sandy's face clues her in that she must look a fright as nothing much phases the woman. Angie throws down enough money that Sandy won't mind her taking the what's left of bottle when she runs._  
  
_She can't go back home. Not after everything._  
  
_She finds a place with Rita from Queens. They'd met a time or two before, on one of the rare occasions Angie ventured out to a bar that wasn't Sandrine's. They fall into something like a relationship._  
  
_The munitions factory hired her on the spot. She expected to be doing assembly line work but her knowledge of fireworks and by extension explosives, only partly thanks to childhood shenanigans the rest is insight gleaned from lengthy conversations with cousin Marco, she ends up in raw materials. She measures out the proper ratios for deadly combustion and tests the quality of the bombs. Sometimes they even experiment looking for new ways to generate more impressive firepower._  
  
_Six months later Angie comes home from her shift to find Rita with a man in their bed. Rita acts scandalized drawing a sheet over herself like Angie hasn't done much more than just see her naked._  
  
_The 'Jesus Angie knock much?!' thrown at her hurts worse than the actual cheating really. It echoes in her head as she forces herself to move before her reaction makes it apparent she is far more than the bumbling roommate Rita's making her out to be._  
  
_When she gets back all of Rita's stuff is gone and there's a hastily scrawled forwarding address for Mr. & Mrs. Mayfield in Armonk._  
  
_She can't afford the rent on her own, not that she wanted to stay in the apartment all things considered._  
  
_One of the girls from the factory suggests the Griffith Hotel, says the only downside is Ms. Fry's iron fist when it come to her no men above the first floor rule._  
  
_Angie's sold._  
  
_Then the war ends and the surviving men start coming home. Angie is one of the first to be let go from the factory, her job no longer suitable for a woman when there are men around again to do it._  
  
_Sandy takes pity on her, giving her a job as a bartender at Sandrine's._  
  
_Working nights give her lots of free time for auditions and she's pretty friendly with most of the regulars anyway. She's finally starting to feel like her feet are back underneath her again._  
  
_Then there's a particularly bad raid and the place gets shut down._  
  
_Angie wonders how many times her world can crash down around her ears before she remains buried in the rubble._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bambini - children  
> dammi forza - give me strength  
> 'vaffangul' - fuck you  
> mariul'- fool/rascal  
> schifozz’ – disgusting  
> che cozz’? – what the fuck are you doing?  
> stunad – moron
> 
> Sandrine's name is a total nod to Star Trek Voyager but Sandy is definitely not based on that Sandrine like at all.
> 
> For any of you not familiar with Bomb Girls (if not WHY?! I highly recommend it) Marco is a character on the show who is the raw materials controller at the factory and runs into trouble due to his Italian heritage.
> 
> Poor Angie just can't catch a break, I didn't realize how bad it was til I finished editing the chapter. I feel kinda guilty for puting our cinnamon roll through all that...


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't get this chapter up as quickly as I would have like but it's a long one so.... forgive me?

A shrill ringing broke the pre-dawn silence. Angie groaned picking up her pillow and dropping it on top of her face.  
  
The fucking alarm was mocking her.  
  
Angie hated waking up before the crack of dawn for opening shifts. Of course waking up for a shift usually implied she had slept.  
  
She didn't mind the early morning shifts themselves. Once she got past the business of wrenching herself out of bed.  
  
In fact she liked the feeling of productivity inherent in working a full shift by the early afternoon and having the rest of the day to herself was nothing to sneer at but today she was tempted to just call in sick.  
  
If she looked even half as bad as she felt, it wouldn't take much to convince anyone it was the truth.  
  
She still couldn't believe how badly she fucked up this time.  
  
She had come to terms with her preference ages ago. Despite what the church said, what most people really, had to say she never felt like she was broken or wrong. The way she saw it, these were the same people who thought it was okay to treat women like objects and people with darker skin worse than animals.  
  
Society was the problem not her.  
  
She also knew she was lucky. Steve and Bucky had understood her. Tommy and Frankie had supported her. She didn't struggle with her 'inclinations' the way she knew many girls 'like her' did. It was a hell of a lot more than a hell of lot of people had.  
  
Still at times like these it got real hard not to feel like her life wasn't one giant cautionary tale.  
  
The night had seemed to stretch on forever and yet she couldn't fathom how it was already over.  
  
There were crescent shaped imprints on her palm. Most of the blood had dried and flaked off during the night but they still stung. She'd needed a physical reminder that while she could hear Peggy crying through the wall it couldn't be her place to comfort the woman.  
  
Her heart rebelled at hearing Peggy's anguish, desperate to soothe her pain but Angie dug her heels or nails in as the case may have been.  
  
It was better for everyone this way.  
  
She just had to repeat that until she believed it.  
  
Her own tears had subsided after awhile and she was left staring at the ceiling, her mind assaulted with a jumbled mess of memories and thoughts she couldn’t stop. She had lost count of the hours she spent with her eyes trained on the ceiling of whatever space she called home at the time. It was a familiar habit in troubled times, one that brought no comfort.  
  
_Angie was staring at the ceiling. There was a crack in the upper right corner, a water stain on the lower left where the roof leaks the tiniest bit during really bad storms._  
  
_Her stomach was growling but even now she was too nauseous to even entertain the idea of eating. She said she wasn't feeling well when she was summoned for dinner and had surprisingly been left alone._  
  
_Alone with her thoughts._  
  
_Too many of them._  
  
_All centered around the two senior girls that had been caught making out in the janitor's closet earlier in the year. The rumor mill claimed Sally was sent to a convent in the countryside but Antonia wasn't as lucky._  
  
_Her parents had sent her for treatments. Angie had hoped it was just gossip._  
  
_You didn't run in the circles Angie did without being aware of the kinds of horror stories that could happen if you weren't careful enough._  
  
_The official story was Antonia's widowed aunt had just given birth and was in dire need of immediate help. That was months ago and Antonia had returned to school today._  
  
_It was painfully apparent, at least to Angie, the rumor mill had not been wrong._  
  
_Angie had struggled to keep her breakfast down._  
  
_Antonia was a shell._  
  
_She had clearly gone to great lengths to disguise the physical ramifications of her time spent away. Her limp, thinned hair was carefully done up. Expertly applied concealer covered the dark circles under her eyes and the round burns by her temple. Red lipstick masked her cracked bleeding lips. Nail polish didn't do much for her jagged broken fingernails but the effort was made just the same._  
  
_Still no amount of make-up could hide the dead look in her eyes or the way she flinched at any sudden movement._  
  
_The way her hands shook and her breath stuttered in the company of any male had Angie fighting back tears._  
  
_Angie barely registered the rest of the day, lost as she was in a daze. How could anyone do that to a person? How could her parents of let them? Dear god, what she must have gone through, must still be going through. That could have been me. That could still be me._  
  
_Angie mindlessly stumbled her way home, the walk with Steve and Bucky usually a boisterous affair was made in heavy silence._  
  
_She headed straight to her room, not bothering to block the door behind her. The repercussions for doing so were enough of a headache that it was best to save that for 'emergency' situations only._  
  
_As such when the door swung open some hours later she was more or less expecting it._  
  
_Still she couldn't say she was entirely prepared for Steve flinging himself facedown across her bed, mumbling something that was lost in the bedding._  
  
_“Huh? Speaking of where is Bucky?” Bucky is the one word she was able to pick out from the garbled sentence. At least she thought so._  
  
_Steve flipped over head hanging off the edge of the bed. She was tempted to tell him to shift positions before he ended up giving himself a nosebleed but she sensed that would not be at all appreciated at the moment._  
  
_“Said he found some work hauling boxes but Ang, I can't talk to him. ” Alright she heard correctly at least but the fuck was Steve talking about. Her head was not in the space to be solving riddles._  
  
_Angie hesitated, clearly there was something Steve was trying to say and any other day she might have handled things a bit more delicately._  
  
_She decided to just plow ahead. “About what and uh you were talkin' to him at lunch?"_  
  
_“Angela. I.cant.talk.to.Bucky.”_  
  
_Ohhhh._  
  
_“Ohhhh.”_  
  
_“Yea.”_  
  
_Okay so this was a new development. She'd known Steve was in love with Bucky for years, pretty much since the day they met. She just wasn't aware **Steve** knew it. It was about time he figured it out, maybe now Bucky'd stop moping around and screwing older guys in back alleys._  
  
_“So don't talk just kiss him.” She waggled her eyebrows. It was totally worth it to see the shade of red Steve flushed as he picked his head up._  
  
_“Annnnngggg. Serioulsy.” She couldn't help but snicker a little at his whining._  
  
_“I am being serious. What's the problem?”_  
  
_“The problem is he's Bucky. Ya know our best friend. He doesn't like me like that.” Angie bit her tongue hard enough to taste blood. She loved her boys, she did but these two blockheads would be the end of her. Why they couldn't just get their shit together was a constant source of annoyance._  
  
_She lost track of the amount of times she was tempted to just lock them in a closet until they figured out this shit out for themselves._  
  
_If it weren't for the fact that Steve would probably die from an asthma attack she'd have done it by now._  
  
_She's brought out her musings when Steve starts to speak again, “I guess I'm just having a hard time making sense of it. I mean I can't talk to girls period.”_  
  
_“What am I a turnip?” Grinning feels good after the gloom and doom of the day._  
  
_“Angie.”_  
  
_“Okay. I'm sorry, I know I'm your exception.” Steve does not look even the slightest bit amused by her over the top eyelash batting. “Tough crowd. Alright, Alright, I'm listening.”_  
  
_“How very kind of you.” Steve says dryly._  
  
_“That's me, super considerate.”_  
  
_“ **Anyway** I know you don't like guys at all that way and even though Bucky goes out with all them dames I'm pretty sure he don't feel that way about them neither ya know and I.... it's just I do like dames..girls...women...you know what I mean but then there's Bucky. He's just so incredible and gorgeous and amazing and— ”_  
  
_“How long you want me to keep letting you list adjectives?”_  
  
_Angie rolls her eyes at both the dreamy quality of Steve's voice and the pout he's now sporting. She was going to be bald from tearing her hair out of her head if she was now going to have to listen to **both** Steve **and** Bucky go on and on about how incredible they thought the other was **without doing a damn thing about it**.  
  
But first things first, “Ain't no rule that says you can't like both men and women, well I guess technically there **is** a law that says you can't **like** men.......” Angie trails off looking thoughtfully into the distance. She snaps back into focus ignoring Steve's raised eyebrow._  
  
_“Not the point. The point is maybe you like both or maybe Bucky's the exception. Don't think loves cares much, I think love just is.”_  
  
_“Well love may not care but other people sure as hell do and as you so helpfully mentioned so does **the law**. You saw Antonia today. It'd end worse for us if anythin' were to happen between me and Buck and we got caught.” Angie sighed. So much for not thinking about that._  
  
_“Yea. I did. Haven't been able to think about much else really. And it would but you've never let something like fear or common sense stop you from something you believed in before are you really gunna start now?”_  
  
_“Well, shit.” Neither one of them speaks for a while after that. They just sit together in silence._  
  
_“Ya know I was thinkin' of drawing somethin' for her. At first I was thinkin' maybe she'd like a portrait of Sally, ya know somethin' positive ta hang on to but then I realized her parents.....”_  
  
_Angie shuddered. “Yeah, maybe stick to a cheery landscape or something.”_  
  
_“Maybe. I just wish there was a better way we could help her.”_  
  
_“Me too. I'm just not sure how much of her there is left to help.”_  
  
_Steve rolled over towards Angie and they curled into one another staring at the ceiling like it held all the answers. It didn't of course but the shared solace was enough._  
  
A frustrated bang from the wall behind her headboard brought her attention back to the present and the still ringing alarm. She fought the urge to throw it against the wall.  
  
Absolutely certain the inanimate object was indeed personally mocking her.  
  
She reached over and shut it off, the violent impulse wouldn't be worth the money she'd need to replace it.  
  
It would be so easy to just roll over, burrow into the covers, ignore the entire world.  
  
A small voice in the back of her head that sounds annoyingly like Steve and today that definitely fucking hurts points out that would be running.  
  
It's then Angie follows the only possible course of action, letting out a frustrated scream into her pillow.  
  
Her bed is amazing and the thought of facing the world is not but Angie Martinelli has been through some straight shit in her life and she'll be damned if her ultimate demise is caused by a dame who skirts around too many secrets with a killer accent.  
  
Besides she had already called in sick just last week, not able to think about plastering on smile on the anniversary of her brother's death. So damn close to the end of the war and the bastard couldn't stay alive for a few more days.  
  
Ennui she had said when Dottie had asked. She'd found if you were melodramatic enough no one really bothered to dig any deeper. Though to be fair she doubted Iowa even knew what the word meant.  
  
The day before Peggy had needed to cancel their plans with another flimsy excuse but she had promised to make it up to Angie the following night.  
  
Angie had been hanging on to that promise like a life raft but Peggy had disappeared without a trace and Angie was left drowning.  
  
Physically shaking herself out of her rapidly deteriorating thoughts she proceeded to drag herself out of bed.  
  
Angie silently thanked her lucky stars she was so skilled with stage make-up, by the time she had finished working some theater magic she actually resembled a human again.  
  
She'd have to consume an entire pot of coffee before she could even attempt to think about functioning but she could handle it. She was an actress after all and today she would be playing the part of competent waitress who had not spent the entire night thinking about her miserable track record in the love and life departments.  
  
Five minutes into her shift and she already regretted doing the responsible thing.  
  
Oh how she loved Monday morning attitudes.  
  
Half of these jerks were getting decaf.  
  
Ya'd think people'd learn not to be rude to the waitress handling their food but nope these guys couldn't see far enough past their inflated egos to even consider the way the treated others was a problem.  
  
Good if there was no chance in them changing their attitudes at least their arrogance was somewhat beneficial Angie thought as she discreetly spit into the coffee of a guy who had just tried to slip his hand underneath her skirt as she passed by.  
  
Two hours later, she was pulled from her task of the post morning rush restocking by her boss yelling, “Martinelli, phone for you. Make it quick.”  
  
Angie froze for a split second, the only people who had her work number were her family and Fry. Hearing from either of those options during the middle of her shift could not possibly spell out anything good.  
  
Picking up the phone apprehensively, Angie's grip soon tightened as her mother chirped the standard pleasantries into her ear.  
  
“It was great seeing you too ma but I'm at work, wha's wrong? Is it nonna? Tommy?”  
  
“Well if everyone's fine then why couldn't this wait til after my shift?” Angie could see her boss side-eyeing her from across the room. She turned slightly so she could at least imagine a semblance of privacy.  
  
“Wait. He did what? Ma. No, I— Yea I know but— My visit wasn't a cry for help ma. He can't do— yes but— no I— yea yea fine ma. I said fine I'll see you next week then.”  
  
Angie slammed the phone back on the hook with slightly more force than necessary. By the time she spun around her fake smile was screwed firmly in place and the look in her eyes was only slightly murderous.  
  
Secretary school. Her father had signed her up for secretary school.  
  
She was trying her hardest not to regret her visit home. But she was beginning to remember it really wasn't just grief keeping her at bay. She had forgotten that her family was too damn meddlesome. It was among the reasons she moved out in the first place. The war just gave her a decent excuse her parents couldn't fight.  
  
Fuming she slammed a cup of coffee down a bit too hard, the scalding liquid splattering all over her hands. She took a deep breath going to run the burns under some cold water. She couldn't carry out a shift like this. She was going to severely injure herself or more importantly break something that would be docked from her pay check.  
  
Grabbing a rag to clean up the mess, she started muttering lines from an audition she had a few weeks back.  
  
Acting like the version of herself she needed to be wasn't going to cut it at the moment. Running lines was trick she used to calm herself, throwing herself into the skin of another person allowed her a much needed reprieve when her own thoughts were spiraling.  
  
Unfortunately on the heels of this latest news every piece she recited came with less than desirable commentary.  
  
She wasn't talented enough, wasn't pretty enough, wasn't quite what they were looking for.  
  
There's no chemistry, your diction is off, do you always walk that way?  
  
There are million girls just like you trying to make it what makes you think you're special?  
  
Sometimes there was nothing said at all but being unceremoniously ousted from the stage two bars into your audition song kind of spoke for itself.  
  
She had made it through her last six disastrous audition pieces and was feeling impressively awful when she heard the door open and felt her skin tingle.  
  
Peggy.  
  
Sure enough she caught movement from the corner of her eye as the woman sauntered over to a booth.  
  
The woman who had the potential to crush her heart like a cockroach under a boot heel was less than ten feet away.  
  
Everything was under control.  
  
The unattainable friend she almost kissed and immediately ran away from was just behind her.  
  
Everything was fine.  
  
The woman she overheard sobbing herself to sleep last night over Angie's very own deceased best friend was her next customer.  
  
Angie took a deep breath and doubled her efforts in reciting the monologue from her last audition.  
  
It did not bring her the calm she was seeking.  
  
Worst audition they'd ever seen.  
  
She knew it wasn't.  
  
The head producer had offered her the part. If she agreed to an additional _private audition_. Maybe if she hadn't broke the finger he was inching up her thigh during the proposition and refrained from kneeing him in the groin afterward she might have ended up with a bit part at least.  
  
What she did get was barred from ever auditioning at that theater again.  
  
She didn't regret it even a little. That didn't mean much in the face of the several other failed auditions preceding it.  
  
She half-heartedly thanked Esther, the woman was sweet. The regular always clapped when she performed in between serving the other patrons and made her promise tickets to her big Broadway debut.  
  
By the time she makes it over to take Peggy's order she had just about accepted that her dreams were dead and resigned to herself to secretary school.  
  
She's so busy dwelling on what a failure she is that when her step falters just the tiniest bit it's enough to send her nearly careening into Peggy's table.  
  
Cause of imminent death?  
  
Peggy Carter beaming at her.  
  
Not just smiling, not anywhere near the indifference or even the brushoff she had been preparing herself for but a smile so bright Angie feels a bit blinded.  
  
Then she goes ahead and opens her stupid, beautiful mouth and the first words out of it are?  
  
“Angie that was wonderful.”  
  
And Angie, well Angie is confused. Peggy is supposed be avoiding her at best and hating her at the worst.  
  
She briefly considers yesterday was an elaborate dream but no, she can feel her notepad rubbing up against the broken skin of her palm. She definitely stopped by Peggy's after her trip home, the trip which was now biting her in the ass.  
  
Remembering this Angie can't help the bitter words as they spill out, “Tell that to the producers, they said it was the worst audition they'd ever seen. You ordering?”  
  
“No I'm waiting for a friend, Angie you can't just let one audition get you down.” Angie wants desperately to take Peggy's words to heart. Wants to believe her own words that it's just a matter of time before Broadway calls. Wants to say 'Thanks English, you're right. Now how's your day goin'?'  
  
The past few hours, hell the past few days have taken far too much of a toll and instead what comes out is a self deprecating, “How about seven?” But Peggy bless her soul keeps smiling up at her. This one is kinder but no less bright.  
  
"Oh, I'm sorry, well things will look up.” Peggy says it like she'd tell someone the sky is blue. Like it's a fact and not a prediction. Angie almost let's herself believe it's true.  
  
Almost.  
  
“I've been telling myself that for a year, time to take the hint. The floodlights are calling but not for me. My father signed me up for secretary school I start next week.”  
  
Peggy looks like someone just ran over her beloved childhood pet. Lord, help her, _ **why**_ was Peggy looking at _**her**_ like that.  
  
“Oh, Angie, no you belong on stage.”  
  
Dammit, she can't handle all of this believing in her Peggy was doing right now. It was seriously messing with her resignation to a doomed fate.  
  
Not to mention it was confusing as hell, Where was the cold shoulder? Where was the 'I'm terribly sorry Angie but after last night it's become obvious that us being friends was a huge mistake, toodles.'?  
  
All of that is far too much to think about in the middle of the day, with half a shift left and no alcohol in her system. So she focuses on the matter at hand instead.  
  
“If that were true I'd be there already.”  
  
Somewhere a part of Angie that she's spent morning burying, the part responsible for shoving fireworks in the pockets of a bully twice her size, the part that managed to talk a cop out of arresting Bucky for lewd behavior that one time, that part is desperate for Peggy to tell her she was wrong. That she's being stupid, to tell her not to give up that she's fought too hard and too long and too much to just go back home and become a secretary.  
  
Angie doesn't get to hear Peggy's response though because her gaze locks on something behind Angie's shoulder, for the first time during their conversation the smile completely falls away.  
  
Her walls are back up in an instant and the difference is striking. This is no longer Angie's caring, supportive friend. This is the woman Angie _knows_ doesn't work at the damn telephone company.  
  
“We'll talk about this when I get home tonight.” Peggy's eyes find hers and they soften just a bit, she looks so earnest that Angie can't look directly into them because she's liable to do something stupid like kiss her in the middle of the automat.  
  
So she turns her head to see what's caused Peggy's sudden change in demeanor.  
  
Mr. Fancy.  
  
Angie's fragile emotions can not take much more and if life won't quit throwing her curve balls for two lousy seconds Angie's likely to drop dead from over exertion.  
  
Her heart is still racing and she hasn't had time to digest the damn butterflies because Peggy had said they'd talk when she got home tonight. And fuck her, Angie couldn't stop the flashing images of what a home _with_ Peggy might look like.  
  
Now that she sees why their conversation was cut short her vision is going a bit green.  
  
“Nothin' to say. I'll let you and your _ **friend**_ talk.”  
  
Shit. Brillant job Ang.  
  
She couldn't hide the wince when she registered just how the emphasis on friend would come across. Dio, she sounded like a jealous housewife and if she couldn't reign in her careening emotions she was going to crash and burn.  
  
For the first time she was grateful her busy morning prevented her from taking a break yet. She hollered her intentions to do just that and all but ran towards the back and out the door.  
  
Peggy had watched Angie scurry out of the automat like the hounds of hell were chasing her. It took a considerable amount of falling back on her training to remain seated and not chase after the waitress.  
  
She focused on the task at hand. She was determined to get evidence to bring back to the chief today, there was something huge going on and she was done always being one step behind. Continuing to stay in the dark about Leviathan’s plans would not end well for any of them.  
  
Naturally tracking down the female operative wouldn't prove to be quite as simple as she imagined. Leave it to Howard to find a way to hinder her work with his inability to keep it in his pants.  
  
She would be having another word with him about his....dalliances when this was all said and done.  
  
After finally ironing out a solid plan of attack she rose first, placing some money on the table. She stopped to spare a glance around the room.  
  
Angie had yet to reappear.  
  
“Mr. Jarvis, I'll meet you by the car there's something I need to take care of first.”  
  
Peggy carefully made her way out to the alley without waiting for a response.  
  
Peggy heard the hollow rhythmic thumping as soon as she stepped outside. Angie was seated up against the dumpster lightly banging her head against it's side as silent tears dripped down her cheeks.  
  
She hadn't meant for the involuntary “oh Angie” she breathed out to be heard but Angie's head immediately snapped up, eyes squinting in confusion as if trying to determine whether or not Peggy was real.  
  
“Peggy?”  
  
“Hi.”  
  
Angie tried to casually wipe her face of any evidence that she'd been crying when Peggy's words registered.  
  
“You followed me into the alley behind my work after we'd already had a conversation just to say hi?”  
  
“Well no, I...” Peggy starts rummaging around in her purse.  
  
“Aha, I wanted to give you these.” She brandishes the violets awkwardly in front of her. It hadn't been her initial plan but hopefully they would cheer Angie up and maybe they'd even help convey her intentions for eventual wooing.  
  
“I'm afraid they're a bit crushed.”  
  
Angie blinked multiple times certain her eyes were playing tricks on her because there was no way Peggy Carter was holding out violets.  
  
For her.  
  
Violets. _Violets_.  
  
“Violets. English?” There was no way Peggy knew what they meant.  
  
“Well, yes. You don't have to say anything. Actually I have to go but I did mean it, we'll talk when I get home.” She reaches out and brushes a nonexistent lock of hair behind Angie's ear then with a light squeeze to Angie's arm she disappears around the corner.  
  
Maybe Peggy _was_ aware of what violets mean.  
  
And Angie thinks she's going to have reevaluate this whole religion afterlife business because if Steve and Bucky aren't out there somewhere making a practical joke of her life she'd sure like to know what the fuck was happening.  
  
Later on Angie takes her time walking home from the L &L, it truly was a beautiful day. She figured if everything else in her life was going to shit she might as well enjoy the weather.  
  
She couldn't wait to get home and out of her uniform. She groaned stopping to bang her head lightly against a tree when she realized she was mentally cataloging outfit options with the thought of seeing Peggy in mind.  
  
She was refusing to move Peggy out of the life going to shit column just yet. The violets in her purse might as well have been bricks for how heavily they were weighing on her mind.  
  
She stops by the courtyard before heading to her room. She found very few things in life as satisfying as the unconditional love of an animal after a rough day. She spends some time playing with the mutt. It seems everyone is more or less calling the little guy by a name of their own choosing so she doesn't feel bad not referring to him by a specific one.  
  
She makes it a point to escape upstairs before she can be cornered for small talk by her well meaning friends.  
  
Angie's changed her outfit three times berating herself all the while when she hears it. The hanger in her hand slips from her grasp in her state of utter shock because she hears _men_.  
  
Above the first floor.  
  
There are **men** above the first floor.  
  
She's still trying process THAT when she hears another noise. It's the sound of crumbling brick hitting the ground from a height.  
  
She knows because the sound is permanently etched in her brain.  
  
She'll never forget the way her feet scrabbling for purchase knocked a piece of the wall loose, deafening as it crashed to ground. In retrospect the sound wasn't very loud at all but at the time, hanging by her fingertips stories above the ground, it sounded just as loud as any explosion.  
  
So she really doesn't want to think about that sound in conjunction with the men who are clearly now in Peggy's room.  
  
Especially since she's got that feeling again, her 'Peggy senses' are tingling and if Angie was at the auotmat she'd be certain to turn around and find the woman sitting in a booth or by the counter.  
  
She takes a deep breath and heads to the window, she closes her eyes before unlatching the lock. She offers up a quick prayer as she throws the window open.  
  
She sticks her head out and yup Peggy's on the ledge. Peggy Carter is clinging to side of the damn building in fucking heels.  
  
“Peggy? What on earth are you doing?” Angie can't help herself, this is ridiculous. Her life is ridiculous and she's not sure how to breathe because her Steve is Peggy's Steve and Peggy gave her violets, said they'd talk, tonight and now....  
  
“Ya know there are less deadly ways to get my attention.”  
  
Peggy doesn't get a chance to respond because there's pounding on her door and federal agents are demanding entry.  
  
“They're here for me.” And well of course they are. Angie wants to be surprised. She really does but this is pretty much par the course for her life. She nods to herself, there isn't a second where she considers NOT helping Peggy.  
  
Of course she could have told Peggy that. Given her some sort of sign at least of her intentions instead of leaving the woman quite literally hanging but she's still more than a little miffed at this entire situation.  
  
Clearly she made a mistake in thinking that Peggy's connection to Steve was the latest act in the long play that is her life falling apart. Oh no that would have been too simple.  
  
She fights down a slightly delirious laugh because seriously, that scenario is too simple.  
  
What is her life.  
  
But federal agents breaking down her door looking for the woman she's in love with who is in love with her dead best friend while said woman is trapped on a ledge outside. That's much more in line with the shitshow her short life has been.  
  
She barely has the door unlocked before the jamokes are shoving it open the rest of the way, barging in like they own the place.  
  
“You don't look like federal agents.” And okay they kinda do but just 'cause they got badges shouldn't mean they can do whatever the hell they want. She'll take whatever cheap shots she can get in.  
  
“We're with the Strategic Scientific Reserve.” And Angie just knows. All the tiny little pieces, the way Peggy carries herself, the weird hours, her dead co-worker, the mysterious trip out of country all if it suddenly comes together and Angie just knows these men are Peggy's gaguzz’ coworkers.  
  
“Well I'm with the Queens county 4-H now take it down the hall.”  
  
Angie's eyebrows crawl up her forehead when Ms. Fry tells her she needs to take this seriously that 'Peggy Carter is not who she appears to be, that she has defaced the very walls of this institution' she makes a mental note to absolutely grill Peggy about that later.  
  
“Mother hen here says you're friends with Peggy Carter.” She barely keeps from narrowing her eyes at him. Peggy never gave a name or even a description but Angie knows his type. He's for sure the antagonist in Peggy's tales of office woes.  
  
Angie kinda wants to break his pretty all American nose.  
  
“Yeah we're friendly.”  
  
“She ever tell you about her work.” She figures this guy is the lone decent one at the office. The one Peggy tentatively calls friend. Bonded through other people's shitty attitudes about their projected incompetence. Though clearly something had changed on that front recently. If the way he just said Peggy's name was anything to go by.  
  
“At the phone company. Just the usual, complained about her fathead male coworkers a lot.”  
  
And okay maybe she shouldn't make it a habit of sassing federal agents but stugats. She wouldn't appreciate strange men invading her room to ask condescending questions even if they weren't hurling accusations about her......about Peggy.  
  
So she just carries on, being the sarcastic little shit that drove her mother up a wall.  
  
It's when the blonde chooch gets a little too close to the window for comfort she figures she needs a new plan.  
  
To be honest Angie was kind of born for this moment.  
  
The most difficult part of the whole charade is trying not to roll her eyes. She's so glad the safety of the country was in the hands of these gidruls. She's seen men look less uncomfortable trying to stuff someone's insides back, well inside, after some nasty accidents involving volatile explosives.  
  
And all because of a few tears from a woman, they actually high tailed it out of there even quicker than she anticipated. Pathetic didn't quite cover it.  
  
There. There. Seriously? Dio, the incompetence.  
  
She locked the door and rushed over to the window trying not to think about the fact that Peggy was perched on a crumbling ledge three stories from the ground.  
  
She threw open the window hauling Peggy through. Her left hand hovered awkwardly in the air as she just managed to stop herself from wrapping it around Peggy's waist.  
  
She's nowhere near having processed everything that's just happened and the words just fall out of her mouth “I knew you didn't work at the phone company.”  
  
If she hadn't already been a goner the adorable nose scrunch and bashful half smile she received in response would have done her in.  
  
She may not know exactly what's going on but she knows at least two things.  
  
The first is that Peggy needs an escape route.  
  
The second is that time is of the essence.  
  
So she tells Peggy to stay put and darts off to cash in a favor from her brother.  
  
There are less questions then there would be if she hadn't shown up two days ago for a visit and maybe the universe does work in mysterious ways. She doesn't dwell just makes sure he knows this is life or death and time ain't on their side.  
  
She also tells her father what she thinks about secretary school while she's still riding the adrenaline high.  
  
When she returns Peggy looks a bit lost but as she tells her where to meet her brother Peggy's eyes snap back into focus. She grabs on to the words like a life raft and the relief is palpable in her thanks.  
  
Angie knows she needs to let Peggy go, knows this is just one more sign in the grand scheme of things telling her she has no claim here. That doesn't keep her from tacking on that she told her father to stuff secretary school. She's pretty damn proud of the performance she just put on and the way Peggy's eyes glow with pride alone makes it worth it.  
  
And then Peggy is telling her she's an amazing actress and there's no way she should be doing anything else. Given recent events and revelations she takes that as pretty big compliment.  
  
She hopes Peggy understands when she says “You're not so bad yourself.”  
  
The way Peggy grabs her and pulls her in for a hug taking a moment to bury her face into Angie's neck pretty much confirms she does.  
  
It's over too soon and Angie knows this is a good-bye.  
  
“Well, I look forward to hearing what this about someday.” She knew it was the wrong thing to say before the words left her mouth. Knew trying to secure any sort of future in that moment was the wrong move even without the way Peggy's eyes mist over.  
  
Then those eyes are sweeping over her face like it'll be the last time. Like she's committing her to memory. The way she says "Someday" is like a knife to heart but the finality of “Take care of yourself” pretty much stops it beating.  
  
It takes everything she has to utter “You too, English.”  
  
Peggy offers her a ghost of a smile and then she's moving rapidly for the door.  
  
Angie knows how this needs to work, knows what's for the best. She still hasn't sorted out her Steve related feelings in this whole mess but she already has enough regrets in her short life.  
  
And if this is the last time she ever sees Peggy she won't let it be fraught with almosts.  
  
She makes the split-second decision and launches herself forward.  
  
In her sudden desperation she miscalculates her force to distance ratio and ends up tackling Peggy.  
  
She must have made some sort of noise first though because Peggy is half-turned around by the time Angie lands knocking them both to floor.  
  
Peggy looks stunned at suddenly finding herself on the floor pinned underneath the admittedly light weight of the other woman.  
  
This time Angie doesn't hesitate, she surges forward bringing their lips together. Peggy responds immediately and they're lost in each other for a few precious moments.  
  
But staying in this bubble is not an option.  
  
Angie refuses to be the reason Peggy gets caught.  
  
Peggy won't let Angie be dragged down with her.  
  
So they reluctantly separate by unspoken agreement. Angie stands pretty gracefully considering her legs feel like gelatin. She reaches a hand down and helps Peggy up as well.  
  
She throws herself into Peggy's arms one last time. Squeezing her with all her might.  
  
She pulls back and places a gentle kiss on Peggy's lips.  
  
She rests her forehead against Peggy's as they gaze into each others eyes.  
  
“Come back to me English, our story ain’t over yet.”  
  
Peggy's breath hitches and she presses her lips into Angie's one more time. The kiss is bruising, imparting the promise she can't speak for fear of breaking it.  
  
And then she's gone.  
  
And Angie is left staring at the closed door wondering what the fuck she's supposed to do now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dio=God  
> jamokes=idiots  
> gaguzz’=muscles/idiot  
> stugats=fuck it  
> chooch=jackass  
> gidrul’ – stupid person
> 
> So I saw the sentiment expressed that all the characterizations of Angie as happy/well adjusted/accepting of her queerness/things in that vein in Cartinelli fic is unrealistic because it was the 1940's. And that made me hella sad.  
> Writing fic that explores is internalized homophobia and/or society's nonacceptance is totally amazing but a) historical accuracy does not have to be synonymous with sad/dead bisexuals/lesbians and b) It's fiction and while I love angst and/or realism sometimes a person just wants some fluffy happy fictional lady loving ladies ya feel me?  
> So yeah sorry just a thing that was kinda bugging me.
> 
> Also I love the fan proposition that Ennui is Angie code for anxiety/depression or something like that. I didn't use it here but I dig it.
> 
> Next up Angie to the rescue or nah?


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I'm just going to put a heads-up here that there is some recreational drug usage in this chapter. So if it's not your cup of tea you can easily skip over that part without missing anything, it's the first flash back so when you hit the first chunk of Italics you encounter if you scroll past 'em you should be good.  
> I kind of got to the point over the last few years at college that I essentially forgot that not everyone smokes weed because of how prevalent it was on my campus...at least til I got home....so I don't know, I'd rather be safe with a drug reference warning in case anyone needs it.
> 
> After checking the end credits to 'The Blitzkrieg Button' and cross checking imdb I discovered that the character in the food stealing scene that points out Gloria's gravy pocket in her purse has a name! It's Vera.  
> She makes an appearance.  
> That scene is hands down one of my favorite of the season and I am really going to miss having scenes with the other Griffith girls and Miriam Fry.

Angie's not sure how long she's been standing, staring at the closed door when she hears a commotion down the hall.  
  
All she can think is _Shit! I totally got Peggy caught._ She bursts into the hallway spotting Dottie standing in front of the stairs, about half a second after that she realizes Peggy is in a heap on the floor.  
  
She's about to rush to Peggy's aid when it registers that Dottie is actually standing _over_ Peggy.  
  
_With a switchblade._  
  
While that would concerning on its own it's the practically inhuman expression on Dottie's face that freezes Angie's blood in her veins.  
  
Before she can recover, heavy footfalls announce the returning agents as they round the corner.  
  
“Hey is that Peggy Carter? Miss for your own safety stand back.”  
  
Angie flattens herself against the wall out of anyone's direct line of sight, not sure who's attention she's more worried about catching.  
  
Dottie's head slowly rises up at the intrusion and Angie has to suppress a shiver as Dottie's face morphs into a mask of concerned confusion.There is no way to remove herself from the hallway without being spotted so Angie is left to listen as Dottie's ditzy voice rings out out.  
  
“Oh gosh mister can you help, I think my friend Peggy must have fainted.”  
  
Angie risks poking her head out the tiniest bit, biting back a curse when she sees the scene unfolding. She's not feeling real great about the number of guns currently pointed at Peggy or the words of warning lowly uttered as they approach her the way one does a rabid dog.  
  
“Can you help?” Angie sucks in a quiet breath, the obnoxiously cheery drawl never sounded quite as menacing as it does now.  
  
One of the agents, the one with the crutch she thinks, asks what happened.  
  
“Oh I don't know I just found her like this.” Angie imagines Dottie's clutching her hands to her chest, playing up the farm girl routine like Angie hadn't just watch her retract a switchblade and slip it up her sleeve.  
  
Angie figures she should alert them to that tiny detail. She may not know all the facts herself but surely the weapon alone warrants further investigation. She's about to do exactly that when the blonde chooch pulls out a set of handcuffs.  
  
At least one of them seems to question the necessity of restraining an unconscious woman.  
  
As it stands the bitter reply of 'trust me, we need them' is all Angie needs, to know the only thing she'd accomplish by bringing Dottie to their attention is getting herself arrested for aiding a fugitive.  
  
“Oh gosh I hope she's okay. Should I call an ambulance.” Sweet Jesus the woman was laying on thick.  
  
Come on, Angie silently pleaded take her in for questioning or something.  
  
Of course they barely spare another glance at the woman and Angie is left to watch helplessly as the SSR agents haul Peggy roughly to her feet.  
  
Her earlier thoughts about the safety of the country if these were the dumb-asses actually paid to protect it resurface. She was certain Peggy had twice the skills on a bad day than the blonde moron could hope for in his prime. Which was a shame when Angie thinks about all of Peggy's trouble with the boys at the phone company in this new context.  
  
Dottie's eyes haven't left Peggy and Angie wants to hit these mamalukes in the head with a clue by four, that's twice in fifteen minutes they've spectacularly underestimated a woman. Actually make that three times, if she knows Miriam Fry that woman is plotting one hell of a comeuppance.  
  
It's not the first time Angie considers a life of crime. She can't single-handedly change society's views so why not be sitting pretty on a nice pile of money while she puts up with the bullshit from men she'd be dealing with regardless. If the reception of her earlier performance was anything to go by she reckons she could be a criminal mastermind with 'the law' never being the wiser.  
  
When she busts Peggy out they can go on the run, rob some banks maybe. Like a queer Bonnie and Clyde.  
  
She considers everything she knows about Peggy and concedes the woman would most likely not be amiable to that idea. Maybe if they target wealthy assholes instead, go for a Robin Hood angle...  
  
Shaking off thoughts of which one of them would be Maid Marian, Angie flies down the back stairs making it to the front steps seconds behind the agents and a handcuffed Peggy.  
  
The agents are half dragging her and Angie figures if weren't for their iron grips Peggy wouldn't even be upright at the moment.  
  
They're causing quite a stir as they frog march Peggy through the lobby but all Angie notices is just how off Peggy seems.  
  
Her head keeps jerking around slightly. The small tics more jarringly noticeable as her neck otherwise smoothly turns in each direction, almost as if she's unable to move just her eyes to take in her surroundings.  
  
The woman looks a bit seasick and Angie wonders if it's nausea or if maybe her vision's swimming. It would explain her fluttering eyelids, the way Peggy's eyes keep drifting shut for seconds then struggle to unstick and open again. It's a toss up as to whether the initial closing is a deliberate attempt to focus her vision or an involuntary action, perhaps a bit of both.  
  
Her mannerisms are sparking a memory but it takes a minute for Angie to catch on to it.  
  
Even if she hadn't seen the woman looking just fine minutes before her supposed collapse, watching Peggy now Angie's willing to bet this month's rent money against the woman having 'just fainted'.  
  
_The ladder leading to the roof is thin and made of iron, Angie isn't afraid of heights but she still tries not to look through the rungs as she climbs. She's fallen out of her fair share of trees but taking a spill this high above the third floor landing would be a one way trip. Most likely her last._  
  
_She pushes up against the wooden hatch at the top, placing her hands on either side of the opening to haul herself up. She hears Bucky's voice before fully clearing the gap._  
  
_“Did you bring the stuff with you?” Slightly panting Angie removes the bag she was carrying and chucks it over to Bucky wishing she had thought to toss it onto the roof before pushing herself up._  
  
_“The leftovers you were so adamant I take ALL of and not say why to ma? Yeah I got em' gunna tell me why you're being so shady now?” Bucky just ignores her, head bent over something in his lap._  
  
_She notices Tommy sitting on the back edge of the roof where there's no wall just a sheer drop, his feet dangling high above the yard._  
  
_“Hey Tommy one of these days you're gunna fall offa there.” He flips her off but doesn't turn around so she flops down next to Bucky who's fiddling with some sort of paper. Wait a second..._  
  
_“Is that what I think it is?” Angie leans over, at first she thought Bucky was rolling a cigarette._  
  
_He doesn't do it often, a pack of Lucky Strike's suits them just fine after a few drinks on nights when Steve doesn't join them for one reason or another. But then the smell registers and a closer look reveals rapidly disappearing green instead of brown as Bucky rolls the paper into shape._  
  
_He doesn't answer just quirks an eyebrow as he licks edge of the paper, sealing it._  
  
_“Where the hell did you get it?”_  
  
_“You remember that guy I was with last time we were at Sandrine's?” This time it's Angie leveling the eyebrow that Bucky ignores as he lights a match and runs up and down the length of the joint._  
  
_“We went to a jazz club in Harlem last night ended up hanging out with some of his musician friends afterward in a tea pad nearby, you're coming this weekend by the way, I knew Steve was gunna be busy the next few days helping out his mom so I figured it'd be the perfect time to smoke it up here.”_  
  
_“Speaking of mothers, J. Do you have any idea how many ways ma will whack us if she catches us lighting up? The school's annual showing of 'Reefer madness' was last week, you know most of the parents in the neighborhood are gunna be extra worked up for at least a month.”  
  
“Does that mean you're out?” Bucky asked holding the joint up in question.  
  
“Of course not, it just means we can't get caught.” Bucky calls over to Tommy who ambles over taking a seat on the other side of Angie.  
  
Bucky strikes a new match lighting the joint and taking in a lungful of smoke. Angie watches the thick cloud of smoke as it swirls, rising and dispersing. He takes another hit and then hands it over to Angie.  
  
“Remember breathe it in and hold it. It's not just a straight exhale like Luckys.”  
  
She coughs less than expected but still passes it over to Tommy after one hit to recover. They continue passing it around until it burns out.  
  
“I don't feel anything, definitely nothing that makes that make any sense.” Angie gestures toward Tommy who had stood up and started spinning around in circles before curling up in the opposite corner of the roof staring intently at the bricks in front of him like they held the secrets of the universe.  
  
“Yeah, I didn't either my first time. Here.” Bucky holds out a new joint.  
  
Angie inhales the smoke holding it in her lungs and this time as she exhales she feels...light.  
  
It's not physical, not even mental strangely.  
  
It just is.  
  
She  
  
is  
  
light.  
  
Her lips curl up into a smile, a completely involuntary action but she can't stop it. Can't stop smiling. Idly she considers trying to force the smile from her face just to prove she can but the thought passes quickly. Why fight against something that feels so good.  
  
The world is a complicated, fucked up mess but here in this infinite moment she inhabits a sense of peace so pure and simple that it makes the thought of facing all the bullshit in the world a bit less hopeless.  
  
She looks over at Bucky with wide eyes.  
  
“Woah.”  
  
“I know right.” Bucky grins.  
  
They look at each other and burst out laughing.  
  
She has no idea how much time has passed it feels like years and seconds passing in tandem.  
  
She looks over at Bucky who's intently fiddling with some scrap metal and makeshift tools. Tommy is still curled up in the corner but his head is now resting against the bricks, eyes closed instead of scrutinizing.  
  
“Is Tommy dead?” Angie marvels, it feels like she's talking underwater. She ponders that should sound like she's talking underwater even if it's only to her own ears but she's thinking about beach days at coney island, diving under the waves.  
  
She always loved the ocean. Always felt a connection to something greater and more ancient than she could begin to comprehend. There's a silence submerged under the waves, an isolation that feels powerful instead of lonely.  
  
Suddenly she can hear the feeling.  
  
What the.....? It's strange. Fascinating but very very strange  
  
Bucky's voice cuts into her wonder.  
  
“You should poke him” What? Oh yeah Tommy. Angie looks over the distance and decides it's not worth the effort. She flicks a rock a him instead. Tommy let's out a sleepy snort but otherwise doesn't respond.  
  
Well at least he's alive.  
  
Angie shifts onto her back getting lost in the blue of the sky. She stares at the drifting clouds and the endless blue, broken only if she shifts her eyes and catches a power line, for what seems like ages. She still has no concept of the passing of time.  
  
Although really if she thinks a bout it time is meaningless. Completely made up. They mark the days and the hours and the years, expect you to accomplish certain milestones in a timely manner. Maintain the status quo.  
  
She jolts up suddenly.  
  
“Ohmygod Buck, Bucky Buck, J, Jaaayyyy, I have the best idea in the history of EVER. We should get married!”  
  
Bucky hadn't bothered to look up from his perch until Angie words belatedly registered. At which point he just stared incredulously at his excitedly bouncing friend.  
  
“Ang what the hell? Did you just smoke yourself straight?!” Bucky was howling with laughter.  
  
“No you ass, like I'll marry you right and Steve can marry my girl—  
  
“You don't have a girl”  
  
“Staizitt’!Yet! anyway Steve can marry my girl and we can get houses next door to each other with the stupid white picket fences BUT WE CAN BUILD A SECRET TUNNEL AND THEN SWITCH!”  
  
For the briefest of seconds Bucky's eyes light up. His heart soars as he imagines what it would be like to have his love returned, what it would be like to build a life with Steve. Angie's proposal would give them a relatively safe life, one above scrutiny and just like that reality crashes in and the absence of hope hurts all the more for that one shining moment of possibility.  
  
“I thought you promised to knock it off about me and Steve besides why would I wanna marry such pain in my ass anyway?”  
  
“Ugh fine no need ta be mean about it. Ima go find someone who thinks I'm less of a pain.”  
  
Angie rises on unsteady feet and meanders over to the far corner of the roof not currently occupied by Tommy. She snags a piece of pilfered bread from her bag on the way.  
  
She ends up making a new squirrel friend something she hasn't done in years. She shares her bread and chats to the little creature who seems to be paying a startling amount of attention to her ramblings.  
  
Of course that probably has more to do with the lingering high she's riding than anything else.  
  
At some point Bucky wanders over startling the squirrel that had ended up perched on Angie's shoulder. She glares at him as the animal scurries away. Then flops back pillowing her head with her arms.  
  
He mimics the position sliding one hand behind his head.  
  
Neither one of them speak and after awhile Bucky slides his hand over and drops something in Angie's palm.  
  
It's a crudely shaped ring, made from whatever leftover scraps he'd been playing with.  
  
It's an apology and a promise.  
  
Angie understands the gratitude Bucky can't speak, the hope he's not ready to let himself have so she just shifts, laying her head on his chest in silent support as they stare at the sky._  
  
_They stay that way until Tommy stirs proclaiming that he's starving. Angie can't stop the hysterical laughter as she watches Tommy struggle to stuff food in his mouth and keep his eyes open at the same time._  
  
Angie watches as they shove Peggy into the back seat of an unmarked car. She notes the make, model and license plate number, quickly committing the information to memory.  
  
Peggy's head remains still now at least, supported by the seat. She meets Angie's eyes for a split second before they move jerkily to right and stay relatively trained there. Angie doesn't need to actually look to know Dottie Underwood happens to be standing in that very spot.  
  
Angie forces herself to relax, the hairs on the back of her neck are standing at attention but she senses the importance of remaining off of Dottie's radar for the moment.  
  
The girls start trickling back inside, the car holding Peggy having disappeared completely.  
  
“I can't believe they arrested Peggy, after she fainted and everything! I wonder what she did?”  
  
If she hadn't been so focused on maintaining a relaxed posture, Angie is sure she would've jumped about a mile at the suddenness of Dottie's voice.  
  
“Yeah, she uh didn't look so hot, huh Dot?” Angie hopes she's coming off more convincing than she feels.  
  
“I just couldn't believe it when they handcuffed her! I haven't ever seen real handcuffs before, have you?”  
  
Angie never would have noticed it before but there's a strange glint in Dottie's eye or maybe just a hint of something in her infliction. Angie can't put her finger on it but Dottie seems almost amused, maybe at her own words.  
  
Angie may not know what _it_ is but she's fairly certain she doesn't want to find out.  
  
Ms. Fry's voice breaks through any comment she might have made as the older woman starts ushering the remaining stragglers inside. All the while announcing a house meeting that Angie's already scheming on getting out of.  
  
She needs a plan. There's Dottie to consider, she should collect Peggy's things before anyone else does, not to mention she has a rescue to stage.  
  
First order of business then.  
  
Iowa.  
  
She knew there was something off about that damn hayseed.  
  
Why hadn't Angie noticed it before? She was typically a damn good judge of character.  
  
It dawns on her then she did have her intial misgivings when Dottie Underwood first appeared.  
  
It's just she had purposefully pushed aside any of those negative feelings Dottie inspired. Angie thought her intense and immediate dislike for the woman could be chalked up to petty jealousy. Which was unacceptable as far as she was concerned. She had no claim on Peggy, as much as she may have wanted one. Besides to be fair she figured someone like Dottie would just about pass out from shock if someone so much as insinuated two women might be involved in _that_ way.  
  
So she had made an extra effort to play nice with the newest Griffith resident. The woman was a little strange (who got that excited about pickles) and a little dense (but the woman was probably born in a literal cornfield so) but she seemed normal enough.  
  
Just another girl chasing after her dreams in the city that never sleeps.  
  
Really what were the chances of Dottie actually turning out to be some sort of psycho killer.  
  
Maybe.  
  
Angie was still pretty unclear on what was going on exactly aside from Dottie having possibly attempted murder. At any rate the woman was now giving her a serious case of the heebie-jeebies.  
  
Ms. Fry stops her before she can escape upstairs and Angie internally panics. But then Miriam asks her to round up any of the girls still in their rooms for the mandatory house meeting and she's relieved to not have to come up with some kind of excuse.  
  
Angie makes the rounds lightening quick gathering up the few girls who hadn't already gone to investigate the commotion and sending them downstairs to Miriam.  
  
She saves Dottie's room for last. She pounds on the door, keeping up the pretense as she raises her voice to inform Dottie about the meeting.  
  
“Hey Dot, Miriam wants everyone downstairs.”  
  
Silence  
  
“I don't got all night Iowa. Lets go.”  
  
There's still no response. Angie isn't quite sure whether or not she was expecting one.  
  
She reaches out testing the handle, the door is unlocked. “Hey Dot you in here?”  
  
Angie takes a deep breath and eases it open. She closes her eyes as if what's she's seeing will change when she opens them again.  
  
Empty.  
  
She steps further into the room. How? It's completely and totally empty.  
  
The bare drawers are haphazardly pulled out of the dressers and the bedding has been stripped. The closet is empty and the tops of the furniture bare.  
  
It's like no one was ever even here and Angie is quite frankly baffled because she knows Dottie was standing next to her literally minutes ago.  
  
Angie resists the urge to sink to the floor and never get up.  
  
The woman who Angie highly doubts is actually from Iowa or even actually named Dottie has mysteriously vanished and in all likely hood tried to kill Peggy.  
  
Meanwhile Peggy has been taken into government custody.  
  
_Super.  
  
Just super.  
  
I am so out of my depth here. Gotta focus._  
  
Alright so problem one has been rendered temporarily unsolvable. Dottie's gone and she can't do anything about it. Not that she's entirely sure what her plan would've been if she found the woman.  
  
Something tells her fist fights against neighborhood disgraziats’ wouldn't be much experience under her belt against someone who managed to get the drop on Peggy.  
  
Peggy.  
  
She needs to get her head in the game if she stands any chance of helping her girl.  
  
She mighta been Steve's girl first and maybe she always would be but Angie was here now and if she could save Peggy. Then maybe just maybe Angie'd earn the right to call Peggy hers out loud.  
  
She bolts to Peggy's room, she's not sure how long til the SSR agents make good on their word and take everything they can get their grubby hands on. Ms. Fry won't be distracted forever either. It's a toss up as to whether the old woman would steer clear of Peggy's room entirely or toss all of her belongings out on the street.  
  
And given the choice between said agents and Miriam Fry on the war path Angie would much rather take her chances with the gun-toting feds.  
  
Peggy's door is open the lock clearly destroyed when the door was kicked in. Angie scrambles to find something to contain Peggy's belongings.  
  
She isn't even remotely surprised to find an army issue duffel under the bed, just starts carefully tossing things into it.  
  
She finds a small trunk as well and between the two she figures she pack most if not all of Peggy's belongings.  
  
She racks her brain for the kinds of places someone with as many secrets as Peggy might hide anything related to those secrets. Speaking of she and Peggy are going to have to have a serious talk about cliché overused hiding spaces she muses as she ignores the giant hole in the wall once situated behind a picture frame.  
  
She finds things stashed amongst two false drawers, a hollowed bed post, and a compartment in the base of the mirror.  
  
She hopes she hasn't missed anything and if she had well fingers crossed the agents sent to collect everything are as incompetent as they proved themselves to be thus far.  
  
When she gets to a small cache of weapons in the closet it becomes apparent she needs to implement some sort of a system.  
  
She starts separating Peggy's things, her 'elegant and demure' clothing, make-up, certain books, innocent trinkets and the like all go into the trunk.  
  
Everything else gets tossed into the duffel bag which Angie concedes is basically a bag full of incriminating evidence.  
  
She quickly scans the room one last time making sure she has everything of importance then slings the bag over her shoulder. She cautiously sticks her head out of the door checking the hall for stray residents or agents with itchy trigger fingers. Coast clear she hurriedly drags the trunk to her own room.  
  
She shoves the bag under the bed and piles some blankets in front of it, the trunk goes in the back of her closet carefully covered as well . It's not perfect but it'll do for the time being.  
  
Next step is finding a way to break Peggy out of wherever they're keeping her. Unfortunately dealing with Ms. Fry's house meeting will have to take precedence if she wants to avoid the woman's wrath.  
  
The last thing she wants to do is subject herself to a Miriam Fry morality lecture but it'd also serve to help dodge suspicion once Peggy's mysteriously barren room got discovered.  
  
She makes a note to move that duffel bag out from under her bed as soon as humanly possible.  
  
Everyone is already seated when she makes it downstairs but she manages to snag a makeshift seat in the very back next to the door. The meeting is mind numbing and it takes every ounce of her acting chops to keep her face neutral as she sits through Miriam disparaging Peggy's character. It's harder than usual to keep her trap shut while Fry lectures about debauchery and codes of conduct knowing that every second that passes is time Peggy doesn't have.  
  
Angie is up and out of her seat the second Ms. Fry declares the meeting concluded. She races towards the stair completely missing the concerned glances exchanged between her friends.  
  
Angie could use some backup and knows just the place to start.  
  
Mr. Fancy.  
  
She recalls Peggy calling him Mr. Jarvis once. She can't for the life of her remember his first name but she does remember the name of his wife. She hadn't believed the colleague story at first and there was span of time she figured Peggy's weirdness could be attributed to messing around with a married guy.  
  
So when Peggy mentioned Mr. Fancy's wife she remembered the name.  
  
Anna.  
  
Here's hoping there weren't too many Anna Jarvis' floating around the big apple.  
  
She had to stifle a giggle as she dialed the operator, it was harder than ever to imagine Peggy sitting behind a switchboard all day connecting calls.  
  
“Hello yes I'm trying to reach Anna Jarvis, New York resident.  
  
After two failed attempts she recognizes the voice on the other end of the phone and has to refrain from letting out a celebratory whoop.  
  
“Hey Mr. Fancy!”  
  
“I beg your pardon?”  
  
“No time for that, Peggy's been arrested we gotta bust her out.”  
  
“I'm terribly sorry but who is this.”  
  
“Angie. Angie Martinelli. But that's a hell of a lot less important then the fact that some SSR boneheads just carted Peggy off in handcuffs.”  
  
“Oh, Dear. I knew her returning to the Griffith would be unwise. I appreciate the notification. I need to notify Mr. Stark, we will handle it at once.”  
  
“No way Fancy. I'm not just gunna sit around while Peggy's in trouble!”  
  
“I apologize but Miss Carter would be terribly cross if I allowed you to get involved Miss Martinelli. Good Day.”  
  
Angie stares at the phone in disbelief, dial tone echoing in the empty hallway.  
  
_Looks like I gotta do everything my damn self.  
  
Now what the hell does one wear to break a gal out of federal custody._  
  
She spins around mentally discarding clothing options and almost smacks straight into Carol. Who is flanked on either side by Gloria and Vera with Evelyn closing out their ranks. Angie stares in silent disbelief at her friends currently blocking her path.  
  
She's sure she checked the hallway before using the phone and least twice during the conversation. So when they hell did they pop up out of freakin' nowhere. She was shaping up to be real lousy at this whole top secret mission nonsense.  
  
_Fuck, How much had they overheard?_  
  
“Probably more than you would've liked, sunshine.” Carol smirks.  
  
“Shit, did I say that out loud?” Great now they were laughing at her.  
  
“Don't worry you didn't but you're alarmingly transparent for an actress, you might want to work on controlling your facial expressions.”  
  
Angie narrows her eyes at Evelyn.  
  
“I'm a stage actress my face is suppose'ta be expressive.”  
  
Vera cuts in before things could get out of hand, “We're here to help.”  
  
“I don't know what—”  
  
“Don't even try it Ang, even if we hadn't overheard the tail end of your conversation. We already knew there was somethin' funny going on. Despite the speech we just had to sit through we like Peggy—  
  
“Even more after Miriam's account of 'Miss Carter's vehement attack on all that is respectable and virtuous' if we're being honest.” Carol chimes in, it earns an elbow to ribs as Vera continues. “We like Peggy and if she's in some sort of trouble....Look we know how important she is to you and we're here to help. End of discussion.”  
  
Angie looks at the determined faces of her friends, there were reasons why she was particularly close to these women, high on that list was that they gave her stubborn streak a run for its money.  
  
She weighs her options, on the one hand she knew the last thing Peggy would want was to drag the whole lot of them into trouble over her, of course that included Angie herself but she was already disregarding that minute detail. On the other she did actually have a few ideas that would go much quicker with some help.  
  
In the end it's not like Angie deciding would make a difference.  
  
“If say no yous are gunna follow me anyway, huh?”  
  
“Yup.” “Count on it.” “Basically.” “You bet yer ass.”  
  
Shaking her head at the chorus of responses Angie marches towards her room leaving them to trail behind.  
  
Angie waits until her friends file in before shutting and locking the door behind her. “Ya know I'll never get tired of having a real lock on my door.” She muses. Her statement is met with blank stares and an eyebrow raise from Carol which she opts to ignore.  
  
Sometimes a person focused on strange things in times of crisis, so sue her.  
  
“Right then, moving on, Peggy's been arrested and Dottie's the one who probably shoulda been.” This earns her some skeptical stares but it's Carol who's the first to speak up.  
  
“Clearly we already knew the first part, you care to elaborate on the second?”  
  
“Not really. Just if ya see her try an' steer clear of her at all costs but like don't make it obvious or she might...” Angie trails off shuddering as Dottie's terrifying expression flashes in her mind.  
  
“Please, how dangerous can Miss Midwest be?” Carol scoffed.  
  
“I think she may have tried to kill Peggy.”  
  
Silence. And then.  
  
“Dorothy Underwood? The woman who got so excited when I sewed a pocket in her purse to hold pickles that she almost passed out. You're telling me you think that Dottie tried to kill Peggy?” Everyone's faces more or less matched the incredulous tone of Gloria's question.  
  
“Look, I know it sounds unbelievable but you guys gotta trust me. Whoever that woman is and if she's Dorothy Underwood then I'm the Pope, she's potentially deadly.” It takes a few minutes for them to digest this information before Carol once again speaks up.  
  
“Alright, you going to tell us why Peggy was arrested?”  
  
“Nope.” Carol looks like she's about to argue but Gloria places a calming hand on her shoulder. Angie does her best to school her features knowing if she let's the smirk she's fighting settle on her face, Carol might just smack her on principle.  
  
“But that's because I don't know.” The assembled group does not look the least bit convinced.  
  
“I really don't, All I know is Peggy's in trouble and I need to help her.”  
  
It was probably the borderline desperate look on Angie's face which prevented her friends from pushing further.  
  
“So you got a plan or..” Angie shrugged at Evelyn's question.  
  
“Nothing concrete. Basically break Peggy out and keep a eye out for Dottie in the meantime.”  
  
“Okay perhaps we should rephrase. You want to break Peggy out of _federal custody. Do you even have plan?!_ Just saying it better be a damn good one considering what you want to do is all kinds of risky at best, stupid at worst.”  
  
Vera could always be counted on as a voice of reason.  
  
Angie just grins, “ I'm glad you asked. Alright so here's the deal, I'm pretty sure that these guys are dealing with Peggy internally not handing her off to some other organization. So we just gotta find out where these SSR guys keep house. ”  
  
“And how are we planning on doing that?”  
  
Angie takes a deep breath hoping Peggy doesn't get too upset with her later.  
  
“We find out where Peggy actually works.” The faces looking back at her seemed thoughtful but in no way shocked. Maybe they didn't get what she was implying.  
  
“None a' ya seem surprised.”  
  
“Come on the hours that woman kept, using every 'secret' access point we have in or out of this place, the way she carries herse—”  
  
“Not to mention her arm muscles.” Carol would be paying for that comment later if Gloria's expression was anything to go by.  
  
“The point is we had the woman pegged as a high class call girl but they wouldn't have sent a division called the Strategic Scientific Reserve after a prostitute not even one with sensitive information. So...”  
  
Alright evidently they got exactly what she was implying. Should have known her friends would pick up on the same things she had.  
  
“Peggy said she works for the phone company right?” It was Gloria who posed the question.  
  
“Every chance she got.” Carol snickers.  
  
“Wait when she filled out her application she would've had to give Ms. Fry a way to contact her at work. And you know how Fry is, it would have to be somewhere she could actually be reached at so....”  
  
“Oh my God Vera you're a genius!” A plan started coming together in Angie's mind.  
  
“Hey Ev, can you pass me my notepad, over there on the dresser?”  
  
“Alright here's what we're going to do. I need to get some of Peggy's stuff out of here and we need the address Peggy gave on her application. So we're going to use 'phoning Aunt Clara' just in reverse.”  
  
Comprehension dawned on the girls as they considered the code name they had in place for smuggling 'contraband' into the Griffith.  
  
“Huh, that could actually work.”  
  
“Right? Okay so Carol and Gloria you're on distraction duty. Evelyn you get the information out of the files. Vera you're with me until I reach the subway station. Any questions on phase one?”  
  
Four heads shook no.  
  
“Alright then phase two. I gotta explain to my brother that Peggy isn't gunna show. Once Evelyn has the address, Carol and Gloria can you check out the building? I just wanna know if it's the right one, don't go inside just see if you can find this car, here's the license plate number.”  
  
Angie hands over a piece of paper with the information on the car that they took Peggy away in.  
  
“Maybe see if any of the guys who were around earlier enter or leave the building. Vera and Evelyn I need you guys asking around the Griffith, Peggy's cousin was here not too long ago, looked an awful lot like Howard Stark.”  
  
She raised her eyebrows meaningfully.  
  
“He was in and out a lot of the rooms I'm sure you recall the stir that caused. It's a longshot but see if anyone knows anything that might be of any help. We meet back here in two hours everyone clear?”  
  
They're about to break when Carol gets a slightly maniacal look on her face.  
  
“Hey, Angie ya got a hammer?”  
  
Angie waits until Carol finishes gleefully making a giant hole in Dottie's former wall and heads downstairs with Gloria to alert Ms. Fry to this latest act of treacherous vandalism.  
  
Angie places Peggy's duffel into the dumb waiter and rushes downstairs to head it off.  
  
Meanwhile Carol and Gloria had barreled into the lobby minutes earlier. As expected their actions bring Ms Fry out from behind her desk, never one to miss an opportunity for a good scolding.  
  
“Ladies what is the meaning of this behavior? I expect better from the two of you. Proper young ladies do not run through the halls like children.”  
  
“Apologies, Ms. Fry it's just we thought you should know right away.” Carol wheezes out trailing off in quite the dramatic pause.  
  
“Well, what is so important then.”  
  
Gloria picks up the narrative, she and Carol finishing each other's sentences throughout the story. “Well you see, we stopped by Dottie's room, we hadn't see her at the meeting and we were worried—  
  
“We thought all the excitement might've been too much for her, I can't imagine there's a terribly high crime rate in Iowa—  
  
“So we went to check on her but her door was opened—  
  
“and Ms. Fry her room is empty.”  
  
“Ladies what do you mean her room is empty?”  
  
“Well all her things are gone Ms. Fry, it's like no one was ever there at all except...  
  
“Except what?” At this point it seemed Miriam Fry was running out of patience, Carol caught Gloria's eye seeking silent permission to take over and deliver the final blow.  
  
She may have been a tad overexcited about the imminent explosion she expected her next words would bring.  
  
“Well, except for the giant hole in the wall Ms. Fry.”  
  
Angie passes the first floor towards the end of Carol's dramatic proclamation just in time to see Miriam move with a speed barely this side of proper towards the third floor.  
  
“What in heaven's name is happening in my building?”  
  
With Fry preoccupied Evelyn slips unnoticed into the woman's office, she quickly finds Peggy's file and jots down the pertinent information. She flashes Angie a thumbs up as she heads upstairs to wait for Carol and Gloria to make their way back to Angie's room.  
  
With the coast clear Angie has no trouble retrieving the bag and makes it down to the subway station without a hitch.  
  
Vera catches Angie's arm before she can descend the stairs, “You sure you don't need me to come with you?”  
  
“Positive.” Angie reaches out to pull the woman into a quick one armed hug. “ I'll see you soon. Keep the rest of 'em on task, yeah?”  
  
Vera snaps off a mock salute, “Aye, Aye. Captain.”  
  
The train ride passes in a flash and soon Angie is on her way to the arranged meeting spot.  
  
Tommy's eyebrows furrow when he sees his sister making her way towards him alone.  
  
“Please tell me there ain't a body in there little sorda?”  
  
“Nope no body, get in the car we don't have a whole lotta a time. Need make a quick stop home then back to the city. I'll tell you about it in the car.”  
  
She gives Tommy the abbreviated version. When they pull up to the house, she jumps out of the car and tells him to meet her around the block. And to keep the engine running.  
  
She slips in through the basement which is always empty in the middle of a weekday. She tiptoes upstairs, years of trial and error make avoiding the creaky stairs easy.  
  
She presses her ear to the door trying to pinpoint whether or not the coast is clear to make a mad dash to her old room.  
  
For once it seems luck is on her side as she makes in it into the bedroom unseen. She wastes no time pulling her dresser away from the wall and stashing the duffel bag in the hollowed out space Bucky helped her build when they were teens.  
  
No one really comes in this room since she's left and the only other two people who know about the secret compartment can't tell anyone so she feels confident that Peggy's things will be safe here.  
  
Still she jams a chair under the door handle, she'll worry about the repercussions of that some other time and leaves through the window.  
  
She pretends not notice the concerned looks Tommy gives her throughout the ride back.  
  
Pulling up to the Griffith Tommy stops her before she can open the car door.  
  
“I'm not gunna push, just promise me if you need more help you'll call me okay? I know we've both been dealing with things in our own ways I just— ” Tommy runs a tired hand through his hair. “Just remember I'm here for you and maybe when you settle what you got to we can spend some time together. Like we used to.”  
  
Angie's eyes soften and pulls back from the door in order to wrap her brother in a hug.  
  
“I gotta see this through but I promise we'll take a day soon. Maybe we can go to Coney Island or somethin'.”  
  
“I'd like that. Try to keep the trouble to minimum, Sis.”  
  
She tosses an 'I make no promises' over her shoulder as she jogs to the door.  
  
The rest of the girls are already settled in her room when Angie returns around 15 minutes before the two hour mark. Evelyn is sprawled over the plush chair by the window, Carol and Gloria are curled up together by the head of Angie's bed, whilst Vera had taken to leaning against the wall on the opposite end of it.  
  
Carol is the first to speak up.  
  
“Well we definitely found the right place, the car was parked out front and when we went inside—  
  
“I thought I explicitly said NOT to do that.” Angie groaned flopping down onto the middle of her bed.  
  
“I know but when we found out the address, we realized Gloria's sister-in-law works there. It seemed like too good an opportunity to pass up.”  
  
“Anyway most of the building is your run of the mill telephone building with the exception of the 16th floor. Glo's sister-in-law said 16 is officially unofficially off limits to anyone who isn't assigned there. We hung out in the elevator until one of the guys we recognized from earlier got on. He exited that floor so I think it's safe bet that's where ya're aimin' for.”  
  
“Okay so now I need a way in, front door ain't an option at least four agents know what I look like and that doesn't even touch on this off limits 'secret' office business. I need somethin' else.”  
  
“Don't you mean we?”  
  
“No. I really don't. You guys have been a huge help but this is the illegal stretch and there ain't no way in hell I'm lettin' you guys so much as chance goin' down for this.”  
  
She could see the arguments brewing but Angie Martinelli could out stubborn the best of 'em.  
  
“I'm serious. No arguments. Vera, Evelyn find out anything helpful from the other girls?”  
  
“Nope, no one had anything useful to say about Peggy's 'cousin. The hole in Dottie's wall really set off Miriam. She's on the war path and it's making people paranoid.”  
  
“Alright well I know just the place that might help find a way in. Anyone feel like a trip to the library?”  
  
The New York Public library was one of Angie's favorite places. She could spend hours wandering through the shelves but right now she was on a mission.  
  
She made her way to help desk in the basement, she was here often enough looking for specific acting related materials that she was on a first name basis with the elderly librarian.  
  
“Hiya Alice!”  
  
“Angie, hello dear what can I help you with today? New audition?”  
  
“Actually it's a school project my nephew's workin' on. I was wondering if you had any blueprints for the New York Bell Phone Company over in Hudson Square?”  
  
“Just give me a minute and I'll see what I can do dear.”  
  
When the woman disappeared Carol leaned into Angie's space whispering,  
  
“Umm Angie what in God's name are you planning to do with blueprints to the building?”  
  
“I thought we established we were looking for a way in?”  
  
“Yea but—”  
  
“Here you are ladies, you know we only have the originals. They did a renovation a few years back but we never received an updated version.”  
  
“These should work just great Alice, we'll just go take a look at 'em over there, thank you!”  
  
“Not a problem dear, just let me know if you need anything else.”  
  
Angie heads over to a large table spreading out the building plans. Carol and Vera trailing behind her.  
  
Evelyn had left them at the entrance in search of food and Gloria disappeared somewhere amongst the stacks.  
  
“So you wanna explain what exactly you need these blueprints for, I mean I know we're looking for a way in but what are you gunna do tunnel in through a weak spot, climb through the ventilation shafts?”  
  
That's when they notice the borderline unstable glint in their friend's eye.  
  
“Angie. No.” But Angie was not even remotely listening.  
  
“Aha!” She traces a path along the paper with her fingertips. “There's an entrance to the vents in a maintenance closet on the 15th floor. From there it's one floor up and then as simple as following the vents right inside. Even with renovations they would have needed to keep the vents intact.”  
  
“And you don't think they've put precautions in place if this really is the lair of some super secret government agency?”  
  
“Welp, there's only one way to find out.”  
  
Angie silently thanked Gloria for wandering off as it made it much easier to convince Carol to stay behind least for a bit, which just left Vera to join her in her trek towards the phone company.  
  
About a block from their destination Angie halts and refuses to go any further until Vera agrees to stay behind. She eventually relents but not without a warning that if Angie doesn't resurface in an hour they're coming after her.  
  
Angie heads around to the back of the building where she recalls seeing a loading dock in the building plans. She isn't sure why a telephone company would need a loading dock and can only hope they hadn't removed it during the renovations.  
  
They hadn't and Angie manages to slip in through the doors behind some janitor finished with a smoke break.  
  
There's a handy emergency evacuation plaque complete with a map which Angie uses to locate the back stairs up to the floor with the maintenance closet she needs.  
  
The whole thing is proving far easier than she thought.  
  
At least until she makes into the actual vents themselves.  
  
She concedes half way through that this may be the stupidest thing she's ever done and that includes the time she took a dare to climb the parachute jump in Coney Island, in her underwear, in December and lick the top.  
  
She almost falls several times trying to vertically climb to floor above her and when she finally makes it up she barely manages to collapse quietly for a much needed break.  
  
She continues on, crawling as silently as possible. She comes to the first break in the paneling and Angie can see a group of women manning a set of switchboards and for a moment she's concerned she won't be able to follow the vent through to the sealed office ahead of her.  
  
She needn’t have worried.  
  
It turns out there aren't any additional security measures which really. She isn't complaining it's not like she wants to get caught but still the lack of additional security measures seems a bit ridiculous.  
  
She can't decide if the men in charge were that dumb or just that cocky.  
  
From the next break in the paneling she can see into a bullpen. There are agents everywhere and Angie tries not to think about what would happen if they found her in here.  
  
There's a hallway off to the right with a series of doors and Angie barely stops herself from cursing out loud, if Peggy is in one of those rooms there's no way to get to her.  
  
She keeps moving forward and finds herself coming up to a dead end and the last break of paneling. Luck is strangely on her side today because Peggy against the odds happens to be in this room.  
  
“English” she hisses, keen not to make too much noise considering she's broken into a top secret government facility to break out a traitor to the United States government.  
  
“Pssst, Peggy.” Angie considers her options. It appeared Peggy and Jarvis were carrying on a conversation seemingly unconcerned about being overheard.  
When she hears Peggy say, “I believe it's safe to say I have no friends left at the SSR, not that I ever had any.” She decides to take a chance and raises her voice.  
  
“Well then guess it's a good thing ya got such good friends out of the office, eh English?”  
  
“Angie?!” Peggy spun around frantically searching for the body that voice belonged to.  
  
“Mr. Jarvis please tell me you heard that and it's not some delayed side effect of Howard's drugged bloody lipstick.”  
  
“I knew you hadn't fainted! Fuckin' Iowa.”  
  
“I can assure you Miss Carter you are not hallucinating, is that Miss Martinelli?”  
  
“The one and only, up here Brits.”  
  
“Angie where in the flipping hell are you?” Peggy looks up noticing eyes peeking out from behind the cover plate in the wall at the same time Angie answers.  
  
“In the vents, consider me the cavalry but hang on a sec did you say lipstick as in—” Angie's supposition was cut off but would not be forgotten as Peggy exploded.  
  
“Oh for the love of, did either one of you even remotely think through possible consequences before you ran off half cocked with your ingenious plans?“  
  
“Once again panic was involved.” “To be fair I called Mr. Fancy and he hung up on me.”  
  
Peggy pinched the bridge of her nose as her well-meaning but rather daft friends tripped over each others excuses.  
  
As she turned to try and center herself a flash caught the corner of her eye. Ivanchenko's hand was moving, the sun bouncing off his ring. And was that....  
  
Morse code, Fan-bloody-tastic.  
  
She grabbed a pen quickly jotting down the pattern.  
  
Prepare for evacuation.  
  
90 minutes.  
  
Brilliant.  
  
Leviathan was coming.  
  
She turned her attention back to the ventilation shaft.  
  
“Angie, listen to me you need to leave. Now.”  
  
“What about getting you guys out of here?”  
  
“Look Angie something is going to happen, soon, I think I've found a way out of this mess but I need to know you're out of harm's way. Besides if they find you they won't believe a word I say.”  
  
But-”  
  
“No buts if you are discovered they will know you lied earlier and you will be arrested for obstructing an investigation involving national security and charged with treason!”  
  
“Well I ain't to keen on prison, between the automat and parochial school I've had enough of uniforms to last a lifetime. 'sides pinstripes ain't really my style.” Angie snarked in an effort to lighten the mood.  
  
“Well if it's any consolation you wouldn't be wearing them for long. As I just so helpfully informed Mister Jarvis should we be caught we'll all be hanged which I feel the need to note once again it is quite unpleasant!” So much for lightening the mood Angie thought, Peggy was just chock full things that will absolutely be addressed at a later date.  
  
_The tip of the rifle jammed into her back for the hundredth time and she focused all her energy on not tripping over her own two feet. She refused to give these bastards the satisfaction.  
  
It didn't help that her feet were practically blocks of ice from trudging miles through the snow.  
  
It was the snow's fault she was even in this bloody mess.  
  
It was July for fuck's sake where the hell did a blizzard come from.  
  
The mission was a simple one. While any mission into occupied territory was fraught with danger this one was classified as a low risk.  
  
A simple exchange of classified information, traveling through the sparsely patrolled wilderness with a native guide. In and out before anyone even noticed they had been there.  
  
Clearly the universe had other plans.  
  
Her and her American companion watched in confusion as their guide stopped sniffed the air and started cursing.  
  
The two of them had laughed when he said a blizzard was coming. It was July, but it was no joke and they apparently had less than half an hour to find shelter and a way to make a fire or else they would freeze to death in short order.  
  
They found a barn and survived the night but their presence had been somehow been detected. In the morning German soldiers appeared out of nowhere.  
  
Being taken by surprise had cost them and her comrades were shot in the head immediately and without fanfare. She however was to be made an example of.  
  
She managed to snap the neck of the solider trying to tie her hands together before another brought the butt of his rifle down on the back of her head.  
  
They half carried half-dragged her unconscious form until she came to enough to once again support her own weight.  
  
Her captors had been taking great pleasure in describing in excruciating detail the way the would leave her slowly rotting corpse hanging as a warning to any others who might think to stand against them.  
  
After what seemed like hours they finally reached the outskirts of a decently sized town.  
  
They kicked her legs out from under her and she fell hard on her knees. She could feel the cold barrel of a gun pressing into her skull, daring her to fight back.  
  
She took stock of her situation, there were only four soldiers. Two were fashioning the noose out of some rope and going about hanging it from a nearby tree, there was the one behind her and the other was preparing to head into town to gather the other stationed soldiers for 'the show'.  
  
There would be no sudden drop to snap her neck, instead they would hoist her up and watch as she was slowly strangled.  
  
If she was planning on getting out of here alive it would have to be now before she was vastly outnumbered.  
  
“Before you go help us string her up to test the height, we don't want to disappoint the others.”  
  
And here was her opportunity, she almost couldn't believe it would be this easy.  
  
She allowed them to haul her up, feigning a stagger as she maintained as boneless a posture as possible.  
  
She allowed them to slip the noose around her neck and fought to control the panic slowly creeping in, she would only get a single shot at this.  
  
They tossed the other end of the rope around the tree and pulled. The struggle to breathe was instantaneous and it took everything she had not to flail her legs about in a fruitless effort to break free.  
  
If they restrained her legs it would all be over.  
  
When she was high enough she reached her bound hands up and grabbed at tail of the noose, pulling herself upward taking some much needed pressure off of her neck. At the same time she aimed a powerful kick to the underside of the nearest soldier’s jaw. His head snapped back and he went down like a ton of bricks.  
  
The guard who had been holding her at gunpoint fired but she swung herself upward and the bullets hit the second solider.  
  
By this point the solider holding her aloft dropped the rope and she fell to the ground.  
  
She wasted no time scrambling towards the fallen men's weapons. She managed to secure a gun and take down one of the remaining soldiers before she felt a searing pain in her shoulder.  
  
A second bullet ripped through her body inches from the first but the man who shot them was already dead. He fell, eyes staring sightlessly at the sky a single bullet lodged in his brain.  
  
Peggy crawled over, making quick work of the ropes still binding her wrists together with a liberated dagger.  
  
She staggered to her feet, flinging the rope from her neck. She armed herself and headed back the way she came, intent on carrying out her mission._  
  
Peggy absentmindedly reached up rubbing her neck, trying to ignore the phantom weight of rope cutting into her windpipe.  
  
“Yeeesh, English Alright. I get it, I'm going, are you sure I can't help though. Nothin' at all?”  
  
“If you see Dottie avoid her at all costs and call this number. She is lethal and remorseless. If you see her at the Griffith pull the fire alarm or something, anything to get yourself and the other girls away from her. She is extremely dangerous. I don't believe she'll return there now that her cover's been blown but one never knows. I am trusting you to keep them safe. Can you do that Angie?”  
  
“Peggy. I— Yeah I can do that Pegs. But what if you—"  
  
“Angie, please, I need you to—It's just—I couldn't bear it if I lost you.”  
  
“Alright, English. I'll see you when all this is over, I guess.”  
  
“Angie wait.” Peggy hesitates and for a moment Angie doesn't think she'll continue. When she does Angie wishes she hadn't.  
  
“Swear on Steve.”  
  
“Peggy what the—”  
  
“I need you to swear on Steve that you will stay out of harm's way. No matter what happens, no matter what you hear, I want you promise me on Steve's memory, you won't pull something like this again.”  
  
Angie stares at Peggy in disbelief tinged with horror. She couldn't possibly expect... but Angie can see in her eyes how serious she is. This is not her English, this is a solider prepared to do anything in order perform her duty.  
  
Angie wants to rail, she wants to fight. The last thing she wants is to sit around helplessly while Peggy puts herself in danger but this is a fight Angie knows she can't win.  
  
And she hates it.  
  
“Fine. I don't like it and we will be having one hell of a talk when this is all over but for now I swear on Steve I won't pull any more rescue stunts, I'll steer clear of anything that might be connected to Dottie or whatever it is you're about to do. Hell maybe I'll go catch a movie or something while you risk your life and I stay far away from being any use . Satisfied English?”  
  
Angie does her best to storm away which is difficult considering she still still needs to be stealthy and she 's in a fucking air duct but she manages it.  
  
Never let it be said Angie Martinelli doesn't know how to make an exit.  
  
She's less than surprised to find her friends waiting for her when she finally exits the building but she's too pissed, the undercurrent of worry too strong, to do anything but shake her head and fume, steadfastly ignoring the silent tears dripping down her cheeks.  
  
She makes camp on the roof of an adjacent building that's taller than the Griffith where she has the ability to see all the entrances.  
  
She hadn't spoken to her friends except to set up a schedule so one of them was monitoring a window at all times. If Angie caught sight of Dottie she would use her compact mirror or a flash light depending on the time to signal whoever was stationed to evacuate the Griffith.  
  
Her friends took turns staying with her, bringing her food and trying to get her to eat.  
  
She hooked up a radio and when the news breaks of an explosion at the phone company Angie makes it half-way across the roof before collapsing in fit hopeless desperation pummeling the ground until her hands bled.  
  
She swore on Steve and she hates Peggy Carter for extracting the one promise Angie couldn't break. For either of their sakes.  
  
She curses Peggy Carter and lord help her if the woman was dead she'd resurrect her just to personally kill 'er again.  
  
By the second day it's been over 36 hours since she last slept and she caves to the call of her own bed.  
  
She falls asleep to dreams of distant explosions, swirling smoke and crashing waves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chooch=jackass  
> staizitt’!= shut up!  
> disgraziats’=dirtballs  
> sorda=sister
> 
> Okay so I didn't think I would end up getting a chance to include any of the Griffith girls into this story but I am so happy I did.  
> I am all about rowboat ships and I'm glad some of ya'll are in the Carol/Gloria dingy with me!
> 
> By Hayley Atwell's own admission Peggy is a woman's woman,there's one [article](http://www.playboy.com/articles/marvel-agent-carter-ballsy-brassy-action-chick-show/) I constantly go back to because it captures the core of why Agent Carter means so much to me (playboy, i know right) .
> 
> Anyway I'm taking a minute to ramble out something I won't get to explore in this story but means a lot to me.  
> Basically I wanna get inside Peggy's head post season one on one particular issue, I would love to see her, in the aftermath of season one's close needing to sit down and reevaluate her life because while she has always supported other women, she realizes she's fallen into the trap of overlooking many of them the way she's so often been overlooked.
> 
> She never even considers Dottie might be a threat and I think that would be something that would truly rock her to her core. Something that would cause her to need to re-examine her values and her actions as a woman trailblazing through the world she lives in out of necessity not necessarily a desire to be a force of change.  
>   
> I want her to look back at her interactions with the Griffith's other residents in a new light. Like when she's trying to be a smooth superspy and steal food and the girls just casually school her and there's a moment where she's clearly impressed and maybe a little bit amazed she hadn't noticed before.  
> I love the idea of Peggy thinking she's being super stealthy sneaking in and out of the Griffith when in reality lots of the girls have her number. In terms of this slightly altered universe I've written I want her to find out about what Angie &co. did for her at the Griffith and realize she'd been so set in protecting these women and carrying the weight of the world on her shoulder's alone that she was in some ways denying these women their own agency.
> 
> I want Peggy founding shield and filling it with unassuming women. I want some girls from the Griffith joining up and even those who don't are part of a civilian resource network.
> 
> The Griffith as the best kept secret and most impenetrable safe house ever seen.
> 
> Dottie runs into Gloria on a mission and doesn't understand why she can't kill the woman. It's never been a problem for her before but she still carries the purse Gloria knitted a special pickle pocket in. It was the nicest thing anyone had ever done for her and Dottie doesn't understand kindness for kindness' sake. She switches sides but she's the reason for most of Peggy's premature gray hairs. Hydra never gets a foothold into Shield because even though they trained an army of female assassins they don't take these 'normal' appearing unbroken women seriously and Dottie can always pick out anyone who's red room before they can do damage. They even manage to help some of them. Natasha Romanov included.
> 
> I want radical feminist Peggy Carter saving the world with an army girls and Jarvis, Demolishing the patriarchy at every turn. I want Angie continuing to take in 'strays', I want these girls finding family in each other, using their skills to help out other women in addition to kicking serious ass. I just need this because of reasons.
> 
> Also ever since the first time Peggy dropped the line "Have you ever been hanged, Mr. Jarvis. It is quite unpleasant." Seriously the delivery, it's one of my favorite lines from the show. I have headcanoned hard that Peggy is talking from personal experience and not just observation and after doing research for this chapter I am more convinced than ever after reading about the Nazi's penchant for hanging young women in particular who resisted against them to serve as examples and warnings.  
> I'm not sure Peggy's escape entirely jives with the laws of physics but she's Peggy fuckin' Carter so.......  
>    
> I almost took a trip down to the New York Public Library to see if I could actually find building plans for a building the SSR headquarters/telephone company _might_ have been based off of before my friends so helpfully informed me that I was insane. I did as much research as I could using the interwebs and watched some mythbusters so I hope ya'll didn't have to suspend your disbelief too far as Angie crawled around in the SSR's vents xD
> 
> This chapter got hella long, in fact I'm pretty sure it's the longest one thus far. Apologies about the insane amount of authors notes on this chapter I'm three large Dunkin coffees with double espresso shots in....
> 
> Oh and a final PSA if you do smoke up, don't actually hold it in too long, it's not getting you higher, it's just oxygen deprivation ya'll.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I struggled quite a bit to get this chapter on paper and posted, hopefully you guys enjoy it. We're winding to the end of the story.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who's commented and left kudos, it means the world!
> 
> The reference to Peggy's 'drag you to hell' fighting style comes from one of my all time favorite tumblr [posts](http://omnicat.tumblr.com/post/104804336225/jabletown-my-favorite-thing-in-the-world-may-be/) on Hayley Atwell's movement choices for Peggy Carter.
> 
> I had to throw in a little bit of JackDaniels because it is probably my favorite ship name in the history of ever. Like I could've gotten behind the ship since it takes both of them out of Peggy's romantic orbit, not mention some of those lookkksss from Jack but the ship name sealed the deal for me. It's amazing, okay, fight me. It's literally just alluded to though so if it isn't your thing ignoring it is super easy.
> 
> The end notes contain a bunch of my personal sexuality/gender/ship feels (Basically everyone in this universe is queer as far as I'm concerned) that exactly no one requested. Which Jeez I actually ran out of space and had to move some of the notes up here evidently I'm unable to tone down the authors notes...

Peggy sat up against the nearest undisturbed desk, her hands gripping the wood nearly hard enough to crack it. The inside of her cheek was bleeding the way it often did when she dealt with matters concerning Chief Dooley.  
  
If only this time was like all the others and the taste of blood was left in the wake of some demeaning remark.  
  
She was having difficulty not blaming herself. It was after all her fault for bringing Ivanchenko nee Fennoff into the SSR. She clung to Jarvis' pardon and while everything was technically Stark's fault, the guilt of yet another death weighed heavily on her soul just the same.  
  
The remaining agents shuffle around in a mindless haze, a few trying to sweep up glass or right knocked over desks. Anything to be useful, to keep up some pretense of normalcy.  
  
When the call comes there is a scramble to the scene. It's like a prayer has been answered and they subtly rejoice in having something on which to focus their energy.  
  
Until they actually make it to the carnage.  
  
The only thing that keeps Peggy upright is her default survival mode.  
  
She falls back to her time on the front, in the trenches.  
  
Emotions will only get you killed.  
  
She repeats it in her head. She never had much of a problem steeling herself in the past. She wouldn't have made it through the war largely intact had that been the case. It's not working this time around.  
  
They arrive at the given location and everything turns to white noise.  
  
_Hell maybe I'll go catch a movie_ Angie's angry words ring in Peggy's ears .  
  
They're greeted by the owner of the theater, she catches snippets amongst the static and echoes in her head.  
  
47 dead.  
  
Heads bashed.  
  
Eyes gouged.  
  
No survivors.  
  
Monster.  
  
Then there's a sea of white sheets to match the white noise. It isn't the most deaths she's seen in one place, not even the most civilian casualties in a supposed safe zone.  
  
_Hell maybe I'll go catch a movie or something.  
  
Satisfied English?_  
  
“Good Lord.”  
  
She can rationalize it all she wants, tell herself it's because New York never saw the action most of Europe did. She can try and place the blame on the average civilian here never knowing the tangible terror of falling bombs or the smell of burning death.  
  
When she signed up for the army, her neighbor's youngest son was six months old. They never sent him to countryside with many of the other children. He survived the shelling of London and at six years old the boy has never known anything but death and destruction.  
  
She can tell herself it's all down to it being nearly a year since the war's end, that she thought that kind of senseless violence was behind them all.  
  
None of the excuses she conjures up can hold a candle to the words bouncing around her head.  
  
_Hell maybe I'll go catch a movie or something.  
  
Satisfied English?_  
  
The only reason she hasn't thrown up is because she can't remember the last time she'd eaten.  
  
Her breath comes hard and fast as the world turns. She wants to run and rip the white sheets off every single body, check every single one until she's certain Angie is not among their numbers.  
  
She tries but she's frozen, unable to force her feet into moving as Daniel follows the man into theater where it happened.  
  
A crime scene photographer moves a sheet to take a picture of the man beneath and like a switch has been flipped Peggy suddenly finds herself unable to stop moving until she's within touching distance of the deceased man.  
  
He's covered bite marks and scratches, all consistent with human anatomy. The dead man has a chunk of light brown hair, or maybe it's blonde, the blood makes it hard to tell, clenched in his fist.  
  
_That could easily be Angie's._ A traitorous voice whispers from the depths of her mind. Peggy sways on her feet.  
  
She forces out the words stuck in her throat. “No monster killed these people. They killed each other.”  
  
The following sequence of events happens almost too fast to process.  
  
Daniel being affected by the contents of the gas canister.  
  
Jack running almost desperately to Daniel's side.  
  
Daniel trying to kill Jack.  
  
Crashing into a lamp, having failed to pry Daniel of off Jack.  
  
Daniel being subdued.  
  
Jack belligerently ordering Peggy to accompany Daniel to the hospital.  
  
Any objection she might have had dies on her tongue when she sees the shadow of desperation in Jack's eyes before it's shuttered away. She reckons if she had a mirror it would match her own.  
  
So she goes.  
  
It takes hours before Daniel awakens and she spends the time personally checking each and every body in the morgue. They had given her a list of identities, by some miracle every unfortunate soul had identification on them. All 47 dead but accounted for.  
  
It wasn't enough. She needed to _see._  
  
Peggy's heart rate didn't slow until she checked each and every body with no sign of her Angie.  
  
She knew the organ wouldn't return entirely to normal until she physically held the other woman in her arms but for now it was enough for her to keep going instead of dropping everything, picking up Angie and just getting the hell out of dodge.  
  
Let everyone handle their own damn problems for once.  
  
Daniel eventually awoke. Aside from the wicked cough and sore throat he seemed to be free from any dangerous lingering effects of the gas.  
  
He may not have trusted her over the amount of incriminating evidence she amassed but she was relived he was alright just the same. Even as she pretended not to notice his wounded puppy expression when he remembered hitting her under the gas' influence. She would have to take care of the torch he was carrying for her at some point but now was simply not the time.  
  
They make their way back to the SSR offices as quickly as possible, still to slow for either of their liking..  
  
Despite her competent theorizing and confident demeanor Peggy feels like her head is stuck inside a fishbowl.  
  
She idly notices that all of the windows have been boarded up while she's been gone and staunchly disregards the way her vision goes a bit funny. The drugs have long since made their way out of her system but she can't quite recall the last time she actually slept. Exhaustion seems to pale in comparison to her current state of being, running on desperation and fumes.  
  
Howard appears dramatically in SSR office and she knows he hovered there quietly, silencing Jarvis with a look, waiting for the perfect moment to announce his presence for maximum effectiveness.  
  
Fucking wanker.  
  
Her fingers itch to level her pistol at him along with the others. Not even a vibranium shield would save him from her at this point. Peggy is sorely tempted to shoot him in the foot on principal but no she has to set a bloody example because these men blamed Howard for the deaths of their own and that is not a debt easily forgiven regardless of facts.  
  
She suppresses a full body shudder when Howard comments on the security. Her already fragile psyche can not handle thoughts of what might've happened to Angie had she tried to break into to a Howard Stark secured location.  
  
She's still reeling from the horror of the movie theater. Of how easily Angie could've been lost to her in some twisted irony resulting from Peggy's own attempts at keeping the woman safe.  
  
Really, she should've known better, what with her seeming affinity for loose cannons.  
  
Parachuting into heavily fortified occupied territory alone, crawling around in top secret federal air ducts, one of these days she would love someone with ounce of self preservation. She ignored the tiny voice in the back of her head saying Angie was it for her.  
  
It had to be something in Brooklyn's water supply she decided. Bucky was more than a bit reckless as well. Perhaps it was the Martinelli's pipes in particular. When all was said and done she should probably send one of the scientists to discreetly check it out.  
  
The urge to shoot Howard in the foot doesn't pass. In fact it starts to feel like a viable course of action if only to keep him from following through with his daft plans. The man can't seem to tell the difference between a redemption path and a death wish.  
  
She hates everything about this plan. There are just too many variables. She's right of course but it isn't enough, hasn't been for some time now.  
  
Peggy is getting real fucking tired of Dottie Underwood constantly being two steps ahead of her. She can't even dwell on the thought of that bloody woman for too long. It brings up too many introspective feelings on how she managed to overlook the woman in the first place and at the moment she needs to focus.  
  
Howard's been snatched and they have no idea what the Russians have planned for their next move.  
  
She wasn't kidding when she said she had enough blood on her hands. God help Howard if he adds his name to that list because she will drag him back from the fiery pits of hell and he will be begging Satan himself to take him back by the time she's through with him.  
  
When the pieces fall into place she can't even fathom the fallout if Fennoff succeeds.  
  
Instead she's left idly thinking about V.E. Exactly one year ago today.  
  
The story she had told Daniel to throw him off Howard's scent was almost entirely true. The exception being Howard could actually swim, at least without an astronomical amount of alcohol in his bloodstream.  
  
_The specters of loss hung heavy in the air. The celebrations were saturated with raw desperation, pain rivaled by a fervent sort of joy. If they couldn't have this then was it really worth all of sacrifice.  
  
Howard had stumbled over to her, his eyes creased in pain, both feeling Steve's absence acutely amongst the revelry. She imagines she's one of the only people still sober enough to tell the difference between drunken celebration Howard and drinking to forget Howard.  
  
To be fair near everyone is drinking for both those reasons themselves.  
  
She steadies him as he crashes into her, his eyes dire and earnest. “It would've been fine ya know, all I wanted was him happy and you made a swell pair.” She can't do this right now but the pain forms a knot in her throat choking down her words, leaving Howard to plow along, “I just want him alive Pegs, I could stand him never knowing I was in love with him so long as he was still here.”  
  
He ruins the moment in true Howard fashion before she can even begin to formulate a reply. He tries to plant one on her and she knocks him down on instinct. Unfortunately neither one of them remembered they were on a bridge.  
  
In the end they did indeed need to get frogmen to fish him out of the Thames._  
  
If you had told then that a year later she wouldn't even register the fact it was V.E. Day until.........  
  
The thought slams her back into the present, 100,000 people already packed into times square.  
  
No chance of preventative measures, they either succeed or everyone dies. Seeing as the latter is in no way an option they need to get a move on, yesterday.  
  
Naturally Howard has yet another sequestered vault complete with a bloody unregistered air strip.  
  
There isn't a speed limit they aren't breaking but the others' head start proves to be too much.  
  
It's like demented poetry the way they pull up just as Howard's plane hurtles down the runway.  
  
Her scream is drowned out by the plane's propellers even as Howard is too deep inside his own mind to have heard her had she been seated next to him.  
  
Peggy is rather certain despite Jarvis' assurances that being shot down is the last thing Howard would want even with so many lives on the line. That won't make it any easier to give the order in the event that.....  
  
She has 12 minutes to perform a miracle, failure is not an option.  
  
She refuses to have Howard Stark's blood well and truly on her hands.  
  
As Peggy carefully makes her way up to the second floor of the hangar her footsteps are silent but there's a new echo in her head.  
  
_Just so ya know yours truly can fly a plane if you ever find yourself in need of a pilot._  
  
Unlike earlier she manages to steel herself. The clock is ticking, the ten minute mark passed and there is no outcome she will accept where anyone else dies tonight.  
  
The unmistakable sound radio chatter washes over her as the radio room's slightly ajar door comes into view. Dottie passes by the opening with her back turned and Peggy tightens her grip on the shotgun.  
  
She can take the shot. She should take the shot. She can attribute at least fifty-four deaths to the woman in her cross-hairs and that's over the last two days alone. A more comprehensive list, one accrued over a lifetime would likely rival that of Howard's paramours. Still Dottie could give them invaluable insight into Levithan and their training programs.  
  
Hands up.” Alright, perhaps she had underestimated the woman before learning Dottie was a Russian operative but really trying to pull a gun that was just insulting.  
  
“Ah, ah,ah,ah. Lose the Gun.”  
  
Peggy insists, if only to herself, that intelligence is the only reason she isn't dropping Dottie on the spot. Protecting national security can be justified, trying to save a brainwashed young woman who is also a lethal assassin can not.  
  
At any rate getting Howard to stand down takes precedence over all else at the moment.  
  
“Move away from the radio slowly.” If she had any doubt as to who was pulling Dottie's strings well, there was far too much silent communication going on for her liking. Like hell his knowledge of 'specific operations was limited only to what he was told.  
  
“Peggy. It is so swell to see you.”  
  
Thirty-Nine seconds is exactly how long it takes to regret her decision Peggy thinks as she pushes herself up from the floor.  
  
“Isn't this fun?”  
  
She should've just taken the damn shot.  
  
Peggy's blood is singing in her veins and she's trying her hardest to tamp down the feral part of her that is indeed enjoying this far more than the situation should allow. It's exhilarating fighting someone who doesn't immediately decide she couldn't possibly pose a real threat.  
  
Dottie lunges at her switchblade in hand, gone are the fluid movements with which Dottie had just unarmed her, before bloody back flipping across the room out of reach. Peggy doesn't have time to puzzle out exactly what's bothering her about that as she shoves Dottie to the ground and charges for the radio.  
  
“Howard! Howard! It isn't real!”  
  
She's no art historian but she'd liberated enough caches of artifacts from Hydra in the 107th's pursuit of dangerous items to know she's lying in the remains of a rather priceless vase of probable significance in antiquity.  
  
A few of the shards get caught under her sleeve, a particularly sharp edge slicing into her arm as she once again picks herself up from the ground. Dottie yells to Fennoff go and Peggy can only hope Thompson and Daniel are able to capture the man before he escapes.  
  
Peggy watches warily as Dottie reaches over plucking a baseball bat off its mount on the wall. Why Howard, with his disdain for most physical endeavors that require clothes even has such an item in his possession is beyond her.  
  
“I used to be so jealous of girls like you. I would have done anything to walk like you, to talk like you but now I can be anybody I want.”  
  
Something about her movements was nagging at Peggy. In between wild swings with the bat that Peggy just manages to dodge it clicks. What had been bothering Peggy as they engaged in their knock-down drag-out fight.  
  
The surviving agents had returned from their face-off with Dottie shaken, they spoke in hushed tones of her almost otherworldly grace. Thompson had shrugged it off with a flippant catlike reflexes but the others claimed she fought lightening quick and flashy like nothing they'd ever seen, inhuman almost. Peggy had seen it herself earlier if only momentarily.  
  
At present Dottie showed no signs of this unique rapid movement. Instead she was fighting in a way that was eerily familiar.  
  
Peggy recognizes it at her own favored 'drag you to hell' style. The mimicry is only further emphasized by her diatribe.  
  
Of course Peggy never soliloquizes this much, or at all really, it's a very vilian-y trait. Some quips a few muttered curses sure, not this whole tortured waxing poetic taunting sprinkled with future plans and a dash of backstory.  
  
Dottie lands a blow to Peggy's leg and she finds herself crumpled on the floor for the third time.  
  
This time however Dottie doesn't give her the chance to rise immediately bringing down the bat in a vicious arc. The impact of the resulting crack has Peggy seeing stars. She starts clawing her way across the floor, desperately trying to stand.  
  
Dottie's still talking but it's difficult to hear her over the sound of her own labored breathing. Peggy is almost certain some of her ribs are broken, she hopes to god there's no permanent damage to her spine. The fact that the pain is beginning to recede into numbness is not exactly comforting.  
  
“What do you think about that?” Peggy has managed to heave herself into a sitting position on the couch but she's still struggling to breathe and force away the pain in favor of regaining full control over her motor functions.  
  
Dottie is closing in, the twisted smile never falling from her face.  
  
“I thought you'd be better.” Peggy narrows her eyes and throws herself forward. She ducks under the swing aimed at her head. Peggy hears crash of the window as the bat misses it's mark and keeps going. She makes a split second decision and ignoring her protesting ribs spins around using the momentum to land a solid kick to Dotties side.  
  
The woman tumbles out the window landing in a crooked heap on the wing of one of Howard's planes.  
  
Well at least Peggy was no longer the only one guilty of underestimating the other.  
  
She spares only a second to acknowledge what she's done, staring at Dottie's still form. She can't help but notice how the pool of blood bestows Dottie with macabre halo. Maybe one day Peggy'd more closely examine her penchant for throwing attackers out of windows, today was not that day.  
  
Less than five minutes 'til Howard hits Manhattan and she's already spent a second more than she has staring out of the broken window.  
  
When she finally reaches Howard he sounds sounds so damn happy. She's at a loss on how to snap him out of it.  
  
“Don't you worry about that Peg. There are no civilians where I am.” Icy fear crawls down her spine. She's down to three minutes now.  
  
“Howard, can you hear me? You must come back.”  
  
“I know this sounds crazy, but that... that guy, Fennhoff, he actually helped me. He... he showed me how to do this. I'm bringing Cap back, Peg.”  
  
Bloody hell.  
  
“Howard, turn the plane around. Come back, and we'll talk about it.”  
  
“I can't do that. Done Talking ” She chokes on the next breath she tries to take, unaware of the tear silently streaking down her face.  
  
“N-no... wait.” Her voice breaks as she desperately tries grasp at any words that will break through the haze Howard is in. Desperation claws at her chest, the cool metal bites into her hand as she clutches the transceiver, transported back in time.  
  
Every syllable forever seared into her memory,  
  
_Give me your coordinates. I'll find you a safe landing site._  
  
“Miss Carter?”  
  
_There's not gonna be a safe landing. But I can try and force it down._  
  
“ Miss Carter, I have Mr. Stark's plane in my sights. We are one mile from land. Miss Carter, should I take the shot?”  
  
_I'll get Howard on the line. He'll know what to do._  
  
“Miss Carter! Miss Carter! Can you hear me?! Miss Carter! Please! Answer me!”  
  
_There's not enough time. This thing's moving too fast and it's heading for New York. I got to put her in the water._  
  
“No, I need more time.”  
  
_Please, don't do this. We have time. We can work it out._  
  
“We don't have more time!”  
  
_Right now l'm in the middle of nowhere. If I wait any longer, a lot of people are gonna die. Peggy, this is my choice. Peggy?_  
  
“Do not take the shot until I tell you, Mr. Jarvis!”  
  
_I'm here._  
  
“Howard. Howard, Steve is gone. He died over a year ago.”  
  
_I'm gonna need a rain check on that dance._  
  
“There's something up ahead. It's him! I can fix this!”  
  
_All right. A week, next Saturday, at the Stork Club._  
  
“You don't have to fix anything.” Neither did she.  
  
“Peg, all I've done my whole life is create destruction. Project rebirth was... He was the one thing I've done... That brought good into this world.”  
  
Oh, Howard. Her throat burns as she loses the fight against her tears. Her voice wavers as she's struck with exactly what to say.  
  
“Howard... I know you loved him. I loved him, too. But this won't bring him back.” Nothing would. Fennoff couldn't have chosen a crueler fantasy.  
  
“Howard, you are the one person on this earth who believes in me. I cannot lose you.” He was also one of the only people on this earth who might understand about the only other person who believes in her even without knowing exactly what she's believing in. Peggy takes a deep breath forging on.  
  
“Steve is gone. We have to move on... All of us.” It's a moment of startling clarity amidst this whole mess. She lifts her eyes to the heavens and blinks back the tears. She hadn't been ready before, despite the pull of her heart in another direction she was clinging to Steve's ghost.  
  
Even as she made tentative steps towards a deeper relationship with Angie, armed with the belief that somewhere Steve had given his blessing, she still hadn't been able to conceive of actually, truly letting him go. She realized in that moment this pain that had been her constant companion, that she had accepted as a sadistically comforting part of her life was not sustainable.  
  
“ As impossible as that may sound, we have to let him go.”  
  
She waited with bated breath but the silence stretched. There was nothing not even static. She closed her eyes, there was never enough bloody time. She couldn't bring herself to open them as she depressed the button on the transceiver connecting her to Mr. Jarvis. It would be hard enough forcing out the words.  
  
“Peg?” Her head snapped around. “He was good before I got ahold of him, huh?”  
  
“Yes. Y-yes, he w... he was.” The laugh bubbled up in her chest and the tears kept coming resulting in a bizarre half-sob, half-giggle, all relief.  
  
“Where are you?”  
  
“Evidently, flying a plane... to Manhattan. I guess you can explain that to me once I land.”  
  
“Mr. Jarvis, he's all right. Stand down.”  
  
By the time she's collected herself and made her way outside, paces behind Jack and Daniel, Howard and Edwin have already safely landed.  
  
She re-secures the weapons in the trunk's cache, Daniel and Thompson are already seated in the car prepared to head out. Meanwhile Howard is leaning against the hood of the car Jarvis drove to get here.  
  
She realizes she hasn't changed in days. At least two of her ribs are broken, Dottie has escaped and too many people are dead.  
  
Still Fennoff's been captured and millions are _alive_.  
  
She's suddenly buzzing despite the steady ache invading her entire body. There is still much that needs to be done but first there's a promise she has every intention of keeping.  
  
She jumps into one of Howard's cars and speeds off. She dares Howard to say something to her about it and after everything that's happened with the SSR if they want to officially fire her for this little detour they bloody well can.  
  
She'll return to the office to take care of remaining business soon enough.  
  
Peggy pulls up to the Griffith and releases a little breath she didn't even realize she was holding when she spots the building still standing, the residents streaming in and out of the warmly lit lobby.  
  
She wasn't sure where Dottie was headed to lick her wounds but she's relieved nothing's befell the place that was just beginning to feel like home.  
  
She takes a second, mentally preparing herself to do battle with Miriam Fry.  
  
She slips through the front door and is almost immediately hauled out of the front desk's line of sight. It's a testament to the toll the last few days have taken on her that Carol manages to effortlessly duck her hastily thrown punch.  
  
“Woah Peggy. Easy.”  
  
“Carol?”  
  
“Nice to see you out of handcuffs, Peggy.” Evelyn chrips from her spot beside Carol.  
  
“Yes well it's rather nice to be out of them. What—?”  
  
“Fry's been on the war path since you got, uh escorted, outta here and Angie could do with seeing you in—” Carol looked Peggy up and down noticing that the other woman looked like hell. “well mostly one piece. So we're helping you get upstairs the easy way.”  
  
“Yeah, you don't look like you're up to scaling any buildings tonight.” Evelyn adds suggesting Peggy'd be better off climbing three stories up the side of the building than dealing with Miriam Fry at the moment. Its as good as the cue Carol was waiting for.  
  
“Evelyn, didn't you have to phone your Aunt Clara?” Evelyn offers up a sly grin as Carol draws a mystified Peggy further back behind a conveniently large potted plant.  
  
Peggy watches in confusion as Evelyn slips out the front door and immediately runs back in waving her arms and calling for Ms. Fry.  
  
The proprietress is out of her chair and out of the building itself at once when Evelyn tells her she spotted a man trying to scale the building around back.  
  
Peggy looks on amazed.  
  
Carol just grins. “Think of how much easier your life would've been if ya let us help ya Peggy. Now come on before the old crone gets back.”  
  
Carol and Peggy climb the stairs as quickly as Peggy can manage. They reach the third floor to find Vera exiting Angie's room. She folds her arms across her chest staring Peggy down.  
  
Peggy straightens up on instinct but she can't find it in herself to be defiant for defiance's sake, especially not to Angie's friends, who have always been so kind to her. So she just sort brings her hand up in an awkward wave and mumbles out a quiet “Hello.”  
  
Vera's face softens at that and she smiles warmly. “It's nice to see they didn't lock ya in somewhere and throw away the key. I was just trying to get Angie to eat and talk her out of replantin' herself on the roof, something tells me ya'd have much better luck.”  
  
“The roof.” Responding to the concern in Peggy's voice Carol answers quickly.  
  
“We set-up a look out in case Dottie came back, Angie spent the last two days camped out across the street before we managed to talk her into coming in for some sleep.”  
  
“Oh, Angie. I need to.” Peggy makes a vague gesture towards Angie's room.  
  
As she passes Vera enroute to Angie's door the woman lays a gentle hand on Peggy's shoulder. “We're real glad you're okay, Peggy.” Vera's eyes shine with warmth and sincerity, after a few seconds they harden slightly “Just remember if you hurt Angie, you'll answer to us.”  
  
“I would submit myself willingly.” Is Peggy's solemn reply.  
  
When Peggy slips into Angie's room she spots the woman curled up on the plush chair staring out the window.  
  
“I already told you Vera I'm not hungry and I'm goin' back to the roof.”  
  
"And here I thought I might be able to change your mind."  
  
“Peggy.” Angie rises but moves no closer, afraid she's starting to imagine things.  
  
“Angie, darling.”  
  
It breaks the spell and Angie launches herself across the room, she stops just short of hurling herself at the other woman, taking in Peggy's haggard appearance and the obvious clutching of her side.  
  
Peggy is having none of it. After the last few days she's endured she _needs_. Peggy all but falls into Angie, holding on to the point just short of bruising. Peggy kisses like she'd die without the feel of her lips pressed against Angie's.  
  
Broken ribs be damned.  
  
Peggy pulls back eventually but she keeps one hand on Angie' waist while the other trails up, mindlessly toying with the end of Angie's hair.  
  
“There’s so much I need to tell you Angie, so much I want to and I promise I will. Right now I have to get back to the office, there are loose ends that need tying but I just— I had to—I couldn’t break my promise to you. Not when it was within my power not to. I came as soon as I could.”  
  
“English—” Angie doesn't say anything else just kisses Peggy soft and slow. Angie's the one to end it, far too quickly, as she steps well out of the other woman's reach.  
  
“Well go on get, if you don't leave now, I don't think I'll let ya leave at all. I'll be here waitin', so tie quickly, yeah?”  
  
Peggy feels her lips curl up into a smile.  
  
“With military efficiency. I— I'll see you soon, darling.” And Peggy slips back out the door quietly as she entered. The hallway is empty and Peggy takes minute to plan the route most likely to allow her to exit the building undiscovered. She opts for the back stairwell intent on going out through the laundry room.  
  
She's seconds away from being home free when, “Miss Carter.” Peggy turns around excruciatingly slow trying not to wince as she plasters a smile on her face.  
  
“Ah good evening Ms. Fry. I promise I'm not here to cause trouble, I was just leaving.”  
  
“Hmm well I received a most interesting phone call, Agent."  
  
Peggy opens her mouth but quickly closes it upon realizing she hasn't the faintest idea what to say.  
  
“I'm sure you can understand Miss Carter that while I am not unsympathetic to the circumstances, I cannot just allow you to resume living here after today's scene. It would be impossible to maintain order, no one would take the rules seriously and I assure you Miss Carter no matter what you may think of me, I am simply trying to protect these girls."  
  
“Of course Ms. Fry, I understand completely. I have found other housing arrangements. I'll just need to pack my things.” A sudden thought occurs to Peggy. "If my things are still where I left them." Shaking her head Peggy turns to go once more.  
  
"Miss Carter while I cannot allow you to resume you long term residence, I implore you to stay the night. You look...unrested and I can only imagine the reality of your last few days based off of what your colleague was permitted to tell me. I imagine there is a great deal more that happened."  
  
"Ah,Thank you, Ms. Fry. It's appreciated but I really must be getting back to the office.”  
  
"Actually Agent Sousa requested I pass along the message that Chief Thompson was sending home all non-essential personnel and that anyone who worked today's case out in the field was forbidden to step foot in the office until 9am tomorrow morning."  
  
"Acting chief" Peggy muttered under her breath. She opened her mouth ready to _politely_ thank Ms. Fry for the message and be on her way regardless.  
  
“I was told to inform you that was a direct order.” Peggy snapped her mouth shut. Exhaustion was beginning to creep in and who was she to argue with a direct order that would allow her some much needed sleep.  
  
“Well then I suppose I should retire for the evening, I am grateful for the hospitality tonight, Ms. Fry.”  
  
“Yes, well I am not completely without a heart. Good-evening, Miss— Agent Carter. Do try maintain some air of respectability for the next ten hours at least, shall you?.”  
  
Peggy didn't know whether to laugh or snort in disbelief, she settled for a tired smile and a simple, “Good-night Ms. Fry.”  
  
“Oh and Agent Carter, perhaps you might ask Miss Martinelli what has become of your things.”  
  
This time when she reaches Angie's door she knocks. Angie opens the door with the most adorably puzzled expression.  
  
“English?”  
  
“I've been informed that there is nothing so pressing it cannot be taken care of in the morning and I was wondering— you see I— well—” The adrenaline was wearing off and Peggy Carter was finding it difficult to stay upright let alone coherent.  
  
“Miriam permitted me to stay tonight and—” Peggy continued to stumble over her words. She was loathe to let Angie out of her sight but the last thing she wanted was to make the other woman uncomfortable.  
  
“Come on English.' Angie said gently tugging Peggy into her apartment. “Let's get you to bed before you hurt yourself.” Angie stopped turning bright red and started sputtering “I didn't mean it like— it's just— I meant—you look awful and—I mean you don't look—ya could never—it's just—uh—”  
  
Peggy let out a small chuckle as her heart finally settled for the first time in days. “Angie what was that you said about me talking too much?” She teased followed by a giant yawn escaping her mouth.  
  
“Heavens. Excuse me.” She ignored Angie's eyes dancing with mirth. “Ah for some reason Ms. Fry suggested I ask you about my things?”  
  
'Oh huh I wonder how she—yeah, I uh I got most of 'em. Ya should be able to find something to sleep in, they're in your trunk in my closet. I didn't want Fry tossin' everything out in the street or those morons you work with messin' with your stuff, so I kinda liberated it.” Angie rubbed the back of her neck studiously avoiding Peggy's eyes.  
  
"Angie." The tears obvious in her voice had Angie rushing to her side. Peggy hurriedly wiped them away "Bloody Nora, I can't remember the last time I was this much of a blubbering mess I—Thank you, Angie. You have no idea how much—" Angie lays a gentle finger across Peggy's lips.  
  
“Hush, it was nothing now go, scoot, wash up, change before you fall over. I'm strong enough but I ain't hauling your dead weight inta bed.”  
  
A few minutes later Peggy's tense voice beckons from the bathroom. Angie walks in and almost walks right back out, there Peggy stood in a pair of military issue pants cut off above the knees.....and nothing else.  
  
Angie closed her eyes _Ave Maria, gratia plena domin—_  
  
Peggy's strained voice cut into her Hail Mary, seemingly oblivious to her state of undress. "I—Ahh—I need to wrap my ribs but I'm having some difficulty—would you mind terribly..." Peggy spent most of her halting sentence glaring at the bandages in question but when she got to the question part she trailed off raising her eyes to look at Angie pleadingly.  
  
Angie mentally chastiseS herself the poor woman was injured and she was sitting here fightin' off improper thoughts, when'd she turn into Gio.  
  
"A'course Pegs just lemme know if it's too tight yeah?" Angie makes quick work of the bandages, years of patching up Steve making her as qualified as any nurse. Peggy slips on a shirt and Angie praises the Lord because she did not fancy an icy shower tonight.  
  
Angie makes it through her nightly routine in half the time it usually takes her. When Angie makes it over to the bed she finds Peggy burrowed into the covers already lightly snoring.  
  
She doesn't even bother trying to suppress the smile that overtakes her face. She slips into the bed as carefully as possible not wanting to jostle Peggy's ribs. As soon as she's settled Peggy rolls over burying her face into Angie's neck, reaching down to intertwine their fingers.  
  
Angie swallows down the tears threatening to fall even as the smile refuses to drop from her face.  
  
“Angie?” Peggy mumbles sleepily.  
  
“Yeah, English?”  
  
"You should move in with me."  
  
Angie blinks certain she heard wrong.  
  
"Can't stay here, Howard owes , no rent, would like to? move in, with me, that is. Not sure, how close, theater." Angie tightens her hold on Peggy's shoulders each grouping of words sending warm breath skittering across her neck.  
  
"S'ok if you don't want." Peggy breathes out again when Angie still hasn't said anything.  
  
“I'd go anywhere with you Pegs but ask me again in the mornin' okay?”  
  
Peggy snuffles out something in the affirmative.  
  
That night neither of them dream, there's no need. For once reality is better than anything they could possibly imagine. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact the Catholic hs I went to made us pray at the beginning of every class....most teachers went with the Hail Mary.....in latin...sooooo that's why Angie's saying it in latin because it's forever burned into my brain. Also in the 40's lots of Catholic churches would have still conducted the masses primarily in Latin, hell the real church attached to where Angie's school is based off of still did that when my dad was a kid in the late 60's so fun? facts.
> 
> I live for bisexual Peggy Carter and Steve Rogers. Angie is hella gay. She's just a giant adorable lesbian.
> 
> I headcanon Howard as pansexual with a preference for women, I can never quite decide if I think that Bucky is gay, bi or pan so I usually end up waffling between bi/pansexual and Steve-romantic...
> 
> Jack could probably be gay, in my head Daniel is definitely Bisexual.
> 
> I also really like the idea of asexual Dottie, who struggles with the things she's had to do because red room trained her to use her precieved sexuality as a weapon.When she defects to shield she finds herself falling for Prvt. Lorriane romantically and it really messes with her after all of her red room trauma because she doesn't understand what she's feeling. She can be anybody she wants...except herself, red room took that from her. Joining SHEILD is the first step to taking it back, to creating _herself_. Angie helps her alot, they're bffs much to Peggy's chargain. Lorriane totally reciprocates the feels and they make one of the most efficient, bloody terrifying teams SHIELD has ever seen
> 
> Demiromantic,demisexual Jarvis!
> 
> I also love the idea of FTM transgender Steve, like it's a large part of why he grew up always getting into fights. And okay sure he has plenty of medical issues but they won't even let him apply to join up. He tries to once and almost gets thrown into prison for his efforts. It makes him so angry, he's just this tiny ball of rage because he's a man goddamnit and all he wants to do is fight in his father's unit to defend the ideals the country is _supposed_ to stand for. He still runs into Erskine and they manage to get him into the program by doctoring some of his papers. Erskine warns him that he truly doesnt know what results the formula would have on him so if he wants to back out... but Steve clings to Erskine telling him the formula magnifies whatevers on the inside and sure he's got a strong will and hes smart and just but he's also a boy so....  
>  In the future Steve tirelessly advocates for LGBTQIA+ rights with an emphasis on trans. The first time a conservative republican tries to claim him for some bigoted agenda Steve shuts that down immediately. He proudly comes out as trans and bi, he's ecstatic to discover all of the resources out there for the community, less so when he finds the statistics for trans violence. He throws himself into activism when he's not avenging, organizing and attending protests and fundraisers, pushes for legislation. He finds out that after Peggy retired from SHIELD she pushed for them to include his trans identity in the museum and history books, knowing how much it would mean to him be a symbol trans youth could look up to. He does everything he can to live up to that symbol, from using his influence and connections to try and make the world a better place to personally spending time with as many of these kids he can to make their worlds a better place.
> 
> M'kay so maybe one of my fav things. I really like Miriam Fry, her scene w/ Peggy at the beginning of ep 4 never fails to crack me up. Now I propose to you asexual aromantic Miriam Fry. She grew up in a small town where everyone expected her to do the proper thing get married and have children. She tries, really tries but she can never get over the feeling of wrongness.She studies everything she can get her hands on psychology...philosophy while everyone tells her how unbecoming that is of a young lady. When it becomes apparent she won't have a choice except to marry one of the local boys she flees to NY, pretends to be a widow and starts cultivating a respectable reputation. She eventually opens The Griffith Hotel for Women she uses society's strict code of moral conduct concerning women to create the kind of safe place she wish was available to her as a young woman.Many girls who are 'different' find their way to the safety of those walls. Over the years she falls into the role of strict overbearing proprietress hung up on propriety and protecting a woman's virtue. If the girls think she's too extreme so be it, it's a necessary evil and she only seeks to protect them in her own way. Besides she's more than happy to serve as a scapegoat, to provide a respectable cover for women to turn down unwanted advances from men because their land lady is a dragon and won't hesitate to throw them out. It's worth the nasty reputation if she can help even one girl escape a doomed fate, she sleeps easy knowing she's helped many.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello friends! So from the beginning this story has been sketched out at 10 chapters and all along I had outlines and scenes for all the chapters as well as the ending and it didn't include Peggy actually telling Angie about Steve or her secret life but [ beifonglover(yadeniky)](http://archiveofourown.org/users/yadeniky) left a comment that sparked something and thus a bonus chapter was born! So if any of you are invested enough in this story to be super excited about an additional chapter send some love over because it's entirely their fault :)

The Griffith Hotel had never had never felt quite as transitory as its name implied in the way it did right at this moment.  
  
Angie gets lost in her musings as she looks around the room that had been her home for the last few years. It was strange how empty the place seemed devoid of personal belongings. Carol had just taken the last suitcase containing Angie's belongings, making sure to usher along the rest of the girls who'd come to help with move out, giving Angie a minute to herself.  
  
It was a different kind of bare than when she first lay eyes on the room while moving in. Angie realized it wasn't the room but something within in her that had shifted.  
  
Truthfully Angie never figured she'd be moving out of The Griffth so soon.  
  
In her darker moments, after an exceptionally bad audition, she imagined growing old here. Stepping into Ms. Fry's shoes when the old bat croaked, imposing curfew and kicking out poor unfortunate souls for sneakin' fellas into their rooms.  
  
She would miss the place but it was hard to be completely broken up about leaving when she was doing so to move in with Peggy Carter.  
  
There's several bruises forming from the amount of times she's pinched herself just to make sure she ain' t dreaming. She resists the urge to pinch herself yet again. After all if this is a dream she doesn't particularly want to wake up.  
  
Having finished a final circuit around the room Angie steps out of the door, locking it behind her for the last time. Mr. Fancy was waiting downstairs loading both hers and the remainder of Peggy's things into the car since the no-men above the first floor rule was being firmly enforced once again.  
  
Peggy herself had slipped out of bed early that morning, dropping a kiss on a still sleeping Angie's cheek.  
  
Angie awoke to what smelled like fresh coffee, bacon and suspiciously not-powdered eggs. She had instinctively reached over searching for the body she spent the night entwined with only to come up empty, sheets already cold. Her panic never fully formed as a rhythmic pacing filtered across her senses. She rolled over blinking the sleep from her eyes to take in the sight of a fully made up Peggy Carter wearing a hole in her floor.  
  
Four steps forward an impressively crisp turn then six steps back. Peggy even paced nervously like a solider, Angie could practically hear the For'd Harch, About Turn Harch as Peggy marched to and fro across the floor.  
  
A mischievous smile bloomed across Angie's face. She waited until Peggy's body followed her heel in one smooth motion, back now facing away from Angie who quietly leveled herself into a sitting position.  
  
Angie took a deep breath interrupting Peggy three steps into her six step pattern to bellow “A-TEN-HUT. ABOUT HACE.”  
  
Peggy snapped to attention immediately, her right foot stepping back swiftly as she pivots around to once again face Angie, shoulders back, chin up, chest out, arms positioned just so at her sides.  
  
Angie catches the exact moment Peggy registers her surroundings are a room at the Griffith and not in any way military affiliated. Her expressionless face melting into brief confusion, eyes wide as Angie dissolves into a fit of laughter. Peggy's eyes narrow as she realizes exactly what just happened which causes Angie to clutch at her sides, accidentally falling off of the bed from the force of her cackling.  
  
Angie doesn't bother moving, aside from gently reaching up to wipe at the few tears that had gathered during her outburst. She angles her head farther back to take in a still glowering Peggy whose hands are planted firmly on her hips as she stares down looming above Angie.  
  
The glower turns to a pout when Angie proves not to be the least bit intimated, choosing to simply grin up at Peggy. Peggy valiantly fights the smile threatening to break through her facade but when the left corner of her mouth twitches ever so slightly Angie points and crows and Peggy- well Peggy finds a fight she doesn't much mind losing.  
  
She reaches down a hand to Angie who accepts the assist mindful of Peggy's ribs. She drapes herself loosely over Peggy, allowing her head to rest lightly on Peggy's chest.  
  
“So what's got you up runnin' drills at o'dark-thirty English?”  
  
“Really, Angie? The sun's been up for well over an hour.” Angie pulled back from her comfortable spot in order to look more effectively unimpressed.  
  
“It's _early_ Pegs.” She huffed out. “and that was a sad attempt at changin' the subject.”  
  
“I brought you breakfast?” Peggy sounded so hopeful that Angie _almost_ felt bad about her pointed comment.  
  
Angie opts to snag a a piece of bacon and some coffee instead of dwelling. She watches Peggy continue to uncharacteristically fidget for a bit eventually deciding to intervene before Peggy managed to sprain something.  
  
“This is real sweet of ya but come sit? Don't much like eatin' alone.” Angie was happy to see some of the tension bleed from Peggy's shoulders. She reached over grasping Peggy's hand content to make her way through the still warm food while Peggy worked up to whatever she had to say.  
  
“So I've- ah- spoken to a friend of mine, Howard and well the thing is-uhm I may have mentioned that-” Peggy trailed off glaring a hole in the table as if it were personally responsible for her inability to harness the simplicity of coherent speech. It was happening all to often around Angie and Peggy did not like it.  
  
She tried a a different approach.  
  
“Do you remember when I was looking for apartments and went to see one that was recommended through a friend?”  
  
“Sure I do, asked you if you were reading the right kind of want ads. I was only kiddin' mind but it mighta put another check mark in the probably a hooker column.”  
  
“Yes well I spo-wait I'm sorry-did you just -another mark in the _what_?” Angie had the decency to look a bit sheepish.  
  
“Well I mean I knew ya didn't work at the phone company, plus you have such a...commandin' presence and ya did exhibit a fair amount'a shady behavior. Not to mention you're very attractive, I mean I know I've mentioned the legs before, English.”  
  
“So you thought I was a _prostitute_?” Angie tried not to wince as Peggy somehow managed to inflict a shrill uptick while simultaneously hissing out the word prostitute. Angie was actually impressed, she'd have to ask how Peggy did that. At a more appropriate time.  
  
In retrospect Angie should've skipped the hooker assumption altogether, unlike the rest of her friends Angie had been to basic. She should have easily recognized the signs. She supposed she did even if it took her being confronted by certain boneheads to fully realize it. It's just Peggy had seemed far too classy to have been mucking about with soldiers. Of course by now Angie had realized just how off she had been. She just hoped she could properly explain it to Peggy.  
  
“Yes? But like a real _high class_ call-girl all swanky and caterin' to the elite like rich people and politicians ya know.” Angie winced a little, that was not the reassuring clarification she was aiming for.  
  
Peggy for her part did not seem to be at all comforted by the high caliber of her imaginary clientele as a _sex worker_. Not that she thought there was anything inherently wrong with working in 'the world's oldest profession' It just irked her that of all the suspect activities she may have been involved in prostitution was the forgone conclusion. She might feel slightly better about it if she thought the assumption boiled down to her skill as a _secret_ agent rather then a deeply ingrained gender bias.  
  
Angie's voice broke through Peggy's thoughts slightly louder than intended due to nerves over Peggy's growing silence.  
  
“Hey! Did ya know ya talk in your sleep?” Peggy blinked owlishly thrown by what she assumed was an extremely unsubtle non-sequitur.  
  
“I'm fairly certain I do not.” Surely someone would have mentioned it in all her years of close quarter bunking from boarding school to the trenches.  
  
Angie leaned in close, warm breath ghosting over the shell of Peggy's ear, “ I'd go anywhere with you Pegs but ask me again in the mornin' okay.”  
  
Peggy turned bright red as the memory of her sleepy mumbling returned to her. Angie's seemingly random statement suddenly making much more sense.  
  
“So does that lovely shade of red you're wearin' mean ya recollect what I'm talkin' about.” Angie teased not bothering to temper her mega-watt smile.  
  
Desperate to reclaim some semblance of dignity but secretly relieved the conversation had come full circle and more importantly to the heart of the question she was trying to get out Peggy simply asked,  
  
“So is that a yes then _Miss Martinelli_?”  
  
“Hmmm, I dunno honey I still don't recall actually havin' been asked a question.” Peggy narrowed her eyes playfully.  
  
“Angela Teresa Martinelli, I humbly inquire if would you do me the immense honor of becoming my flatmate?”  
  
“Well that just ain't fair Carter how's a girl supposed ta say no to such a charming proposition.” Angie sees the flicker of doubt before Peggy can shutter away the emotion and rushes to try and prevent Peggy from making a tactical retreat.  
  
“I would love to move in with ya English. Giant sewer gators couldn't keep me away.”  
  
“Truly if- Angie swiftly halts anymore second guessing by putting Peggy's mouth to much better use. Angie draws out the kiss waiting until she feels the rest of the tension seep out of Peggy's body.  
  
Then she waits til Peggy's eyes open so the sincerity in her own cannot be missed.  
  
“I'm choosing you Peggy Carter and that's not nothin'. Think you can accept that?”  
  
Angie smiles to herself at the stunned expression on Peggy's face, how her eyes glisten with unshed tears. The wordless acceptance as they tumbled onto the bed actions speaking louder than words.  
  
Then Peggy notices the time and has to quite literally drag herself away from Angie, profusely apologizing, as she makes herself presentable, that she's needed at the office.  
  
Angie allows Peggy the space to pull herself together without a fight knowing that she could now look forward to future of delaying Peggy from making her way to the office daily if she felt like it. Besides she's not exactly complaining about the view.  
  
Peggy drops a kiss on Angie's cheek on her way out but pauses with her hand on the doorknob, “Giant sewer gators, Ang?” she questions amusedly from the doorway.  
  
“Yep, bigger'an most cars.” Angie was never one to miss a beat and she didn't plan on starting now. Peggy just sort of stared like she couldn't decide between rolling her eyes or allowing laughter to overtake her. “What I'm a city gal English. I ain't ever seen a wild horse let alone a herd, probably never will.”  
  
“But you've seen larger than average alligators dwelling in the city's sewers? Have I ever mentioned the week I spent in the NYC sewer system a few winters ago?”  
  
Angie narrowed her eyes, lips pursing to contain the grin threatening to break across her face, “don't you got some fatheads that need schoolin'?”  
  
Peggy couldn't have stopped the fond chuckle if she wanted to “I suppose I do. Though I promise to make today's work day as short as I can manage, darling.”  
  
It was hours later that Angie was notified about Mr. Jarvis being sent to pick up their belongings and escort her to the new place. Which led to the current moment in time where Angie was practically skipping down the hallway because Jarvis had shared they would be retrieving Peggy along the way.  
  
Angie slowed as she reached the dumbwaiter pausing to trail her fingers along the handle, Angie knew it wouldn't be last time she descended these stairs. She had too many good friends here to imagine this would be last time she ever stepped foot into the Griffith.  
  
Still it felt like an ending. She supposed it was, if only a chapter and not the book.  
  
She was just passing Ms. Fry's office when the woman herself suddenly stepped out effectively blocking Angie's path to the front doors.  
  
“Well Ms. Martinell I believe congratulations are in order.”  
  
Angie tilted her head completely baffled. “Congratulations?”  
  
Ms. Fry peered over the top of her glasses, “I remember a few years ago when heartbroken young woman with more feelings than sense found her way to my establishment. She had been jilted by her roommate and was seeking new accommodations. I asked how long she saw herself staying at the Griffith. If I'm not mistaken her reply was a flippant 'til I'm married I guess'. The bitterness was not hidden very convincingly Ms. Martinelli”  
  
Angie stood there her mouth opening and closing but no sound was escaping.  
  
“If I recall Ms. Carter provided a very similar response during her interview and while Ms. Carter's dismissal from this institution is due to a rather unfortunate set of circumstances, you are leaving of your own accord and so I conclude that congratulations are in order. For you both.”  
  
At this point Angie eyes were nearly as wide open as her mouth.  
  
Ms Fry lets out a small chuckle, Angie thinks it's the first time she's ever genuinely heard the older woman laugh.  
  
“Be happy Angela and though I hope all works out should you ever need it the doors of the Griffith will always be open to you.”  
  
Angie thinks she manages to stammer out a thank you but she reckons it doesn't matter much since she's definitely dreaming. There is no way that encounter actually just happened.  
  
Then again she doubts her ability to make something like that up.  
  
The girls were gunna think she cracked.  
  
Speaking of, there are hugs all around and some good natured ribbing about being made a kept woman from Carol and Evelyn. And yet she promises to have them all over for dinner once they've settled in.  
  
Maybe they'll even make it a weekly thing. It takes ten minutes, several more jesting comments and second round of hugs before Angie manages to make it into the car and more importantly get the door closed.  
  
The ride starts off in awkward silence. Angie still a little miffed that Fancy pants hung up on her, that he got to help Peggy while she'd been banned from doing so herself.  
  
She ends up spending the car ride to Peggy coming up with borderline inappropriate things to say, just to watch the tips of his ears turn red and his left eye slightly twitch.  
  
Jeez she thought it'd take more than that to illicit a reaction from Howard Stark's butler. Maybe she was actually wrong about Peggy's mysterious friend Howard who bore a striking resemblance to the Stark genius being said genius.  
  
At any rate Angie's certain she doesn't imagine his sigh of relief when Peggy enters the car, although as a good butler he would never admit to it.  
  
Angie watches through the window as the city passes by, they'd had to back track to pick up Peggy from the SSR offices but it seems they were headed back uptown. Her brows furrow as she realizes she hadn't bothered to question where exactly their new place was located.  
  
When they pull up to a real swanky building on the Upper East Side Angie's sure it's a pit stop, for what she isn't sure but then Peggy is nudging her out of the car, saying they'll bring up their things later and Angie can't quite make it all add up because there is no way _here_ is where she'll be living for the time being.  
  
A doorman is on duty at the front entrance nodding politely as the three of them filter in. The floor is marble, their heels echo in the grand space as they make their way towards the garish gold painted elevator doors. At least she hopes it's _painted_ gold. Somehow even the fine wood paneling covering the walls looks ridiculously expensive . It takes everything in Angie's acting arsenal to not spin around in wonder while whistling out the goddamn hovering on her lips.  
  
As it stands she's not able to keep her jaw from visibly dropping.  
  
While waiting on the elevator Peggy reaches over without looking and gently closes Angie's mouth which had been hanging open for going on an unseemly amount of time.  
  
When they finally step into the elevator Angie just about chokes on her own tongue as she watches Mr. Fancy hit the button to the penthouse suite.  
  
“Uh Pegs who exactly is this friend'a yours?” Because it was one thing suspect the Howard Stark was Peggy's mysterious favor owing friend. It was quite another to be riding up to the penthouse of building more elaborate than anything she ever managed to even _dream_ about when she entertained thoughts of being rich and famous.  
  
The elevator doors ding open to reveal a lavish stretch of hallway. They trail behind Jarvis and Angie finds herself increasing the speed of her steps just bit to put herself in front of Peggy rather than beside her, the temptation of wrapping a hand around her waist too strong in such close proximity.  
  
Mr. Fancy, as she knows was his intention reaches the large double doors first. There's glass paneling so she can already see the extravagance that lies beyond. Still when the the doors swing open it's concentrated thought that keeps Angie's mouth from hanging open a second time.  
  
Unfortunately she does find her voice.  
  
“Oh my god ya're kiddin' me.” Actually she concedes that could have been much worse. Angie's rather glad _that's_ what happened to come out of her mouth and not the steady stream of colorful bilingual expletives currently running rampant through her brain.  
  
“I know what you're thinking Miss Martinelli and yes the drawing room has recently been refurbished in the neo-classical style.” Right, that was definitely payback for the first half of the car ride, cheeky bastard.  
  
“On the small side isn't it?” Angie fails to notice the exasperated look Peggy shoots in Jarvis' direction and she's far too busy trying to process the room itself to detect the sarcasm heavy in her friends words.  
  
It leaves her once again speechless because you could fit the room she spent the first decade of her life in the freaking elevator. Which granted her father and uncles had thrown up a makeshift wall in her brothers' room to give her some semblance of privacy before shuffling everyone around as they got older, so it was technically half a room but still _in the elevator_.  
  
“Iiit is one of Mister Stark's quainter residences.”  
  
That snaps her out of her musings because _quaint_ che cozz quaint. How the hell is she associating with people who consider this quaint, her room at the Griffith was quaint, this is something else. She acknowledges the little voice in the back of her head that whispers incredible but tries to hang on to some semblance her Brooklyn bred realism.  
  
“Quaint. You could fit the entire apartment where I grew up in this room.” She wonders if they realize she means this room could easily fit the entirety of the top floor of the building where she grew up.  
  
“Six bedrooms, eight bathrooms, a rooftop terrace for alfresco dining and the library has a, sufficient collection of first editions.” Right scratch that you could fit the entire building where she grew up and still have plenty of room to spare. Where was the catch. Life simply didn't work out this way. Ever. Especially for her.  
  
“And you're saying we can stay here. For free?” The urge to ask if she can get the answer in writing is strong but she's isn't really looking to push her luck at the moment.  
  
“Since the unfortunate incidents at both your home and place of work, Mr. Stark has offered this residence to you and Miss Carter for as long as you might require it.” Looks like Carol and Evelyn weren't too far off with their kept woman commentary. Angie adds it to ever growing list of things to address when she finally gets that long overdue conversation with Peggy.  
  
Angie pauses her perusal of the room to glance over at Peggy. She can't help the satisfied grin that tugs at the corner of her lips when Peggy's eyes instantly meet her own. Peggy answers with her own smug little smile and Angie wants to kiss the expression right off her adorable face.  
  
“It's a bit far from the theater district.” Angie was starting to resign herself to being surrounded by cheeky Brits, now if only one them would make themselves scarce...  
  
“I'll live with it.” I'll live with you is what she means.  
  
The urge to pounce on Peggy is becoming difficult to resist. The gal secured them a place that was theirs no matter who technically owned it. The next time Peggy said we'll talk about this when I get home she would quite literally mean 'our' home and the rush of feelings that accompanied that sentiment had Angie bursting at the seems for an outlet. Preferably one that included the absence of clothing and a tour of all six bedrooms and eight bathrooms. Maybe even the rooftop terrace.  
  
Angie could feel the heat rising high on her cheeks and was pretty sure her eyes had glazed over for a second. Searching for some composure she turned to Mr. Fancy to ask, “You got a phone? I have to call my mother.”  
  
It seemed her mother was the first thought that popped into her head as far as mentally dousing herself with cold water went.  
  
“Naturally. There's a telephone in every room.” A telephone in every room. In what world was that even remotely necessary?! It could prove endlessly entertaining the more she thought about but still what sort of fiction had she managed to trip herself into.  
  
“Oh my god are you kiddin' me?” Angie knew it was only a matter of time before she slipped up and scarred the poor man with the coarser extent of her vocabulary. The thought may have spurred her out of the room at trot rather than a leisurely stroll.  
  
“How refreshing to meet someone who appreciates the finer things.”  
  
“I appreciate the finer things I just don't want to know what's happened in and on the fine things.”  
  
Angie overhears the exchange despite swiftly exiting the room and makes a mental note to disinfect _everything_ before getting too comfortable. She's sure she can get Carol to smuggle her some of the industrial stuff from the hospital.  
  
It takes exactly two seconds into the conversation with her ma for Angie to regret ever having picked up the phone to begin with.  
  
In all her excitement she had forgotten that the last time she spoke to her mother it was to grudgingly agree to Sunday dinner and secretary school. While in the meantime she had blown off secretary school, quite vocally to her father she might add, recruited her brother for some mysterious emergency and had been otherwise unreachable for going on four days.  
  
Not to mention her place of work had been the site of some mysterious government showdown which looked pretty damning for Angie's case especially when coupled with the previously stated facts.  
  
So much had happened recently that the conversation with her mother over the automat's phone seemed like another lifetime and not the reality of a few short days.  
  
And now she was living rent free in what was technically one of Howard Stark's mansions. She was kicking herself for not coming up with a cover story for that. Somehow insisting that she was moving into a big otherwise empty penthouse with a singular woman didn't seem to be helping her any.  
  
“What kind of woman is owed favors from a man like Howard Stark, Angela?” her mother had queried in disbelief. Angie's vehement defense of Peggy's character was quickly tipping over the line of acceptable friend territory.  
  
Of course leave it to her mother to come up with an idea so off the wall it stopped Angie dead in her tracks, preventing her from accidentally revealing too much about the true nature of her relationship with Peggy.  
  
In the end it was a tie between which was more insulting her mother being convinced Stark knocked her up out of wedlock and now she was hiding until the bastard was born or that she had run away and become a part of some harem of girls Stark kept around on a whim for indecent activities.  
  
It took a considerable amount of self control not to make a few snarky comments about how her mother always wanted her to find a man so what did it matter about the particulars.  
  
Since she did not feel like dealing with the hellfire and brimstone that would rain down if she were actually pregnant out of wedlock (which would be the very definition of a modern day miracle) or a queer (what her ma didn't know couldn't hurt her) she did her best to assuage her mother of any crazy notions she had about what sort of sin Angie had fallen into.  
  
It was easily the most trying conversation of her life. Considering the last few days alone and glossing over her misadventurous youth Angie thought that sufficiently said something.  
  
By the time Angie hung up the phone she was mentally exhausted. The conversation lasted for much longer than she would have liked and her mother had managed to wrangle a dinner invitation for the whole family to come see the new place. Presumably to make sure it wasn't in fact the den of iniquity her mother had conjured up in her imagination.  
  
She silently apologized to Peggy in advanced for the production that would become. Speaking of Peggy, she began looking around for her new _roommate_. Stopping briefly to marvel at the way her voice bounced off the walls as she called out the woman's name. She wanted to explore their new _quaint_ residence together.  
  
It didn't take long for her to stumble across the hastily scrawled note in the foyer smeared with what looked suspiciously like tear drops.  
  
Running an errand.  
  
Angie wasn't buying it and after the events of the last few days she couldn't be faulted for the concern that thrummed through her body or the spike of fear.  
  
She rushes downstairs, recalling the doorman who greeted them upon arrival. Hopefully he could at least tell her how long ago Peggy left, if not where she was going.  
  
She was dejected to find out twenty minutes had passed since Peggy's departure, far too long to track her.  
  
He must have seen the look on her face because he informs Angie that Peggy asked if it he happened to know how long it would take to walk to the Brooklyn bridge from their location.  
  
Angie's first thought is that the woman is fucking insane, they're on the Upper East Side for chrissakes. A glance at the doorman seems indicate he agrees though he keeps his mouth shut.  
  
The man confirms Peggy had left on foot and proposes that maybe she had decided to take a cab after walking for a bit.  
  
Angie thanks the man distractedly the gears in mind already spinning. She figures it's about five maybe five and a half miles from their current location to the Brooklyn Bridge. In that perspective it doesn't seem quite as outrageous. Peggy surely would have walked far more miles in a day if she spent time on the front lines as Angie suspects she has.  
  
At the very least Angie knows she's been through basic training. Army if she correctly identified the markings on the dress uniform among Peggy's salvaged things, special forces but still Army.  
  
While Angie had been trained by the Air Force she still had to complete multiple mile treks in full gear. She had lost track of the amount of push-ups they made her do and the extra miles she had been forced to run because she never could quite keep her mouth shut.  
  
She griped quite a bit about her least favorite training exercise insisting they were flying planes not charging after krauts in a ground assault.  
  
The drill sergeants did not see it from her perspective.  
  
Angie likes to think at this point she knows Peggy pretty well and she can pretty much guarantee despite the doorman's objections that Peggy Carter decided to walk all the way to the fucking Brooklyn Bridge.  
  
Angie figures it'd take Peggy just shy of two hours to complete the journey leaving Angie herself with a bit more than an hour to catch up.  
  
Armed with this new information Angie allows a plan to formulate in her mind.  
  
Angie figures it was about time they actually talked, she was more than ready for some answers but first she needed to make sure Peggy was actually alright.  
  
Something had prickled in the back of Angie's consciousness and if asked she wouldn't have been able to say why she was suddenly positive that Peggy's disappearance was directly related to Steve.  
  
It was still strange to think they both shared a love for Steve different though it was and yet Angie realized it bonded them in a unique way. She was actually looking forward to talking about Steve again with someone who loved him just as much as she did, if Peggy was up to it any rate.  
  
She just needed to make it clear in no uncertain terms that Peggy was never allowed to make her swear on Steve again.  
  
Angie retrieves her purse from upstairs, counting the change to make sure she has enough for the train. Then she picks up the phone in the hallway, Jarvis hadn't been kidding about there being one in every room and dials her brother.  
  
She's glad not for the first time to have a handful of uncollected favors. It occurs to her she should work on getting Peggy's bag back as well certain the other woman would notice the absence of some sensitive items when her head was together enough to unpack.  
  
One blessedly quick conversation later and Angie is out the door and on her way.  
  
Peggy decided to take the long walk to her destination. She had known the minute Edwin Jarvis handed her the vial what she was going to with it. What she had to do with it but she hoped the walk would help her come to terms with it a bit more.  
  
It was ironic that Howard had decided to destroy his dangerous inventions should he be able to reclaim them. She truly was as surprised as she expressed to Mr. Jarvis. Still if Howard knew Steve's blood hadn't been lost he wouldn't hesitate to mess around with it.  
  
Despite it being perhaps the most dangerous thing in his vault but Howard was completely blind to that aspect of it. He looked at the vial and saw only Steve. So had she at first.  
  
However what she had planned was as sentimental as it was logical.  
  
No one could be allowed to continue trying to recreate the serum. There was no one left to understand the gravity of the choice that needed to be made. If anyone could be successful at unlocking the secrets in Steve Roger's blood it was Howard Stark and god help her but she couldn't allow that to happen.  
  
She had spent a lot of time with Abraham Erskine after rescuing him from occupied Germany. Worked with him, listened to him. He carried immense guilt from his part in creating Red Skull and he extracted a promise from Peggy should anything ever happen to him she would not let the mistake be repeated. She could have never predicted the way events would play out when she agreed.  
  
Erskine was one of casualties of war she mourned the most. He was also the only reason Steve had been given a chance. Peggy shuddered at the thought of what might have happened if Hodges, the government's endorsement had been given the serum.  
  
Howard saw the last vial of Steve's blood and was blinded by the one good thing he had done in his life.  
  
Peggy had wanted one last chance at keeping him safe.  
  
And now she was finally ready to let him go.  
  
Steve Rogers gave the ultimate sacrifice. He traded his life to save countless millions. His blood had been spilled in back alleys all over Brooklyn and in battlefields across front lines but now she could return a little piece of Steve Rogers to the city who helped make him who he was.  
  
The city he always held close to his heart, Steve had joked once that the most difficult part of all the 4Fs wasn't rejection it was having to apply as someone from _New Jersey_.  
  
Peggy finally reaches the bridge and slows her pace at the sight of the thick cables, suddenly remembering a story shared over a bottle passed around a fire with the Howling Commandos. They were talking about dangerous stunts they'd gotten themselves into while intoxicated and Bucky seemed to have an endless supply many of which caused the tips of Steve's ears to turn pink and co-starred their mysterious sister.  
  
Peggy realizes now she always assumed they meant Bucky's sister since Steve's file cited he was an only child even when Steve seemed to claim the girl as often as Bucky. She tries to remember if they ever called Angie by name now that she knows of the connection. She's certain the surname never came up she would have remembered that for sure.  
  
The tale Bucky spun was a bit light on details to start as if he were omitting certain details but it comes back to her just the same as she runs her fingers lightly over a steel cable, if she closes her eyes she can easily imagine the drunken clamor in three voices she knows well.  
  
_They had tried out a different bar for once, Bucky muttering something about steering clear of Sandrine's for the night to Angie's disapproving stare. They ended up at a place that wasn't an exclusively queer clientele but they claimed to be **friendly** to different walks of life.  
  
The same could not be said of cuckolded husbands.  
  
Angie was getting their fourth round from the bar when she bumped into a wall of a man. Before she could apologize the man spun around and when he registered the person who had bumped into him he roared out “YOU.”  
  
And then all hell broke lose.  
  
Angie dove out of the way as he lunged at her causing him to crash into the group of guys standing behind her. It started a chain reaction and a full scale bar brawl.  
  
“What was that you said about me sleeping with people who were taken Ang?” Bucky shouted over the din as he dodged a flurry of punches.  
  
“Didn't know she was married at the time J!” Angie answered breaking a chair over her own attacker's back.  
  
Steve had jumped up on the bar and was throwing whatever he could at anyone who got too close to either Bucky or Angie when a shrill and unmistakable whistle broke through the pandemonium.  
  
“Shit, cops.” Whether the ease with which Angie and Bucky cleared a path to get close enough for Steve to leap from the bar landing on Bucky's back as they fought their way through the chaos to slip out the back door was a testament to their strong bond or the frequency with which they found themselves in trouble was up for debate.  
  
“Bet your glad I'm so well acquainted with back doors now huh.” Bucky huffed out after they'd cleared at least ten blocks and felt reasonably safe from arrest.  
  
Angie face planted into the nearest wall too nauseous to even make a crack about the softball Bucky just lobbed her.  
  
“I think I'm gunna be sick, remind me to never run that far drunk ever again, or at all.”  
  
Steve observes their surroundings, “There's a train station about three blocks that way but I lost my coins when I jumped from the bar.”  
  
Angie gingerly removes herself from the wall and starts digging around the pockets of her dress, “Uh I got nothing must've fallen out during the fight.”  
  
They turn in tandem to Bucky who sticks his hands in his pockets and deadpans, “Welp looks like we're walking.”  
  
“Back to Brooklyn?!” Is the twin chorus response.  
  
“Do you see any other options?”  
  
“We can just jump the turnstiles.”  
  
“Don't you think we've had enough close calls with cops tonight Angela?”  
  
Angie huffs a little a both the usage of her full name and Bucky's valid point. Even as she knows if it were just the two of them he wouldn't be making it. They trudge along in silence until Bucky produces a flask taking a long swig before passing it over to Angie.  
  
“You're telling me none of us managed to keep a hold of our train fare but you still got your damn flask?”  
  
“I don't gotta share ya know.”  
  
Angie glared a little but passed around the flask just the same.  
  
The trek took twice as long as it might have were they all sober but small miracles it felt half as long due to the alcohol still coursing strong through their veins.  
  
They finally approach the Brooklyn Bridge around three in the morning and Angie takes off running, despite her earlier declaration, swinging herself up onto the large suspension cable.  
  
“I thought we wanted to avoid any more run ins with the police tonight Ang?” Bucky hollers after her.  
  
She ignores him climbing higher and higher towards the granite tower.  
  
Bucky raises an eyebrow at Steve who lets out a heavy sigh but clambers onto Bucky's back for the second time that night, muttering about how Angie's fascination with climbing absurdly high things whilst drunk was going to get them all killed one day.  
  
It was a small blessing their shenanigans were taking place on a late July night where not even the slightest breeze disturbed the air on the ground. Higher up was a different story of course the wind kicking up off the water but not strong enough to knock them over or disturb their already compromised balance.  
  
Steve and Bucky eventually reach the top where Angie is already seated kicking her legs as they hang off the ledge.  
  
“I swear sometimes I think you have a death wish.”  
  
Angie just shakes her head spreading her arms out wide, voice bright with wonder, “Isn't this view unbelievable.”  
  
Bucky concedes in his own head the view is pretty damn impressive but he'll swan dive from the spot he's standing before he admits it out loud.  
  
He sits down, back leaning against the metal railing structures situated firmly away from the edges Angie's so fond of. Steve settles down next to him pulling out a sketchbook, from where Bucky couldn't definitively say.  
  
When Angie tips her head back and catches sight of Steve, hands flying across the pages, she's speechless for almost two full minutes before exploding.  
  
“Seriously?! You're telling me Bucky managed to hang on to his flask and you have a damn sketchbook **and** a pencil but neither one of you could keep a hold of 30 fuckin' cents?! Where were you even keeping that thing?”  
  
Steve just kind of grins and keeps on sketching. Angie's more impressed than annoyed anyway.  
  
Angie leans back on her elbows staring up at the sky feeling closer to stars up here like the they were twinkling just a bit brighter. They bask in the quiet of the water gently lapping far below, only broken by the scratching of Steve's pencil and the rare car driving by underneath them.  
  
They stay like that for hours until the sun rises bouncing off the buildings of the Manhattan skyline and the water below. When the sun is fully up they reckon they should climb down before they gather any unwanted attention in the light of day.  
  
They each stand stretching a bit, shaking out their limbs in preparation for the descent when Bucky's voice breaks the shimmering silence.  
  
“Hey guys, I uh found our train fare.” That morning Bucky came very close to being pushed off the top of the Brooklyn Bridge. Angie swears the only reason she didn't was the near three hour walk still ahead of them if Bucky fell taking their change with him.  
  
Their time spent up on the bridge captured lovingly and forever frozen on paper by Steve's hand tells a different story._  
  
Glancing up at the structure towering above her, Peggy wonders not for the first time how the three of them survived until adulthood.  
  
Peggy stares out at the water the sun is beginning to set not rise but she imagines the view is quite similar. She briefly considers climbing to the top before registering exactly how absurd that idea is.  
  
She reaches the middle of the bridge and goes just a bit further until she's firmly over the imaginary line that divides Manhattan from Brooklyn and holds the vial out over the water.  
  
As she frees her hand from the confines of her pocket she notices a slight tremor. For a moment Peggy watches her hand move as if she's out her own body. The cap pops off with ease and suddenly she's slammed back into the moment.  
  
Peggy tips her hand watching as Steve's blood pours out in a fine line disappearing into the depths below, just as he had miles away. A single track of tears mimics the action. She hopes wherever he is this brings them both some peace.  
  
“Bye, my darling.”  
  
She shoves her hands back in her pockets gazing off into the distance and allows a rare moment of giving herself completely over to her emotions. The tears track silently down her cheeks and she can taste the slight tang of saltwater carried by the wind as it whips trough her hair. The occasional car drives by behind her and the gulls screech.  
  
Peggy wonders if Steve ever stood in this exact spot. She knows he liked to sketch from here sometimes and she likes to think this is a spot he'd chosen once upon a time. It doesn't bring the stab of pain she's become accustomed to when he swirls around her thoughts. Just the bittersweet thought of experiencing the view beside him.  
  
Eventually she removes her hands from her pockets and folds her arms on the railing in front of her. She stays that way until the tears stop and the tug in her heart tells her it's time to go.  
  
She straightens up biting back a groan when her ribs protest the treatment or rather lack thereof they received today.  
  
Peggy starts making her way back to the Manhattan side of the bridge pondering over whether to bother Jarvis or take the train. After the last few day and another twinge in her ribs she thinks maybe she'll just take a cab.  
  
As she approaches the end of the bridge she stops short. She tiredly rubs her eyes wondering if they were playing tricks on her or if Angie was in fact leaning against the railing holding what appeared to be a large pizza box.  
  
Wiping the tears from her face, she draws nearer. When she's almost certain that is indeed Angie her mind races, how did Angie find her? Did she know what she was doing? How long had she been there?  
  
She finally settles on, “Angie where on earth did you get that? And how long have you been standing there?”  
  
Angie seems to read the unspoken questions as easily as the ones Peggy managed to verbalize and in true Angie fashion decides to completely ignore them in favor of what she had planned on saying before Peggy called out to her.  
  
“A getaway car wasn't nothing when it comes to favors my brother owes me , so what’dya say we go back to that swanky apartment and eat some of the best pizza Brooklyn has to offer on some ridiculously expensive sheets? If I ain’t mistaken you’ve got one hell of a story to tell me.”  
  
A hell of a story indeed. Despite the knowledge that sharing said story could change everything Peggy feels lighter than she has in quite some time. She leans over placing a kiss on Angie’s cheek threading their arms together. “You are marvelous, darling. “  
  
“I know.”  
  
“And cheeky.”  
  
“You love it.”  
  
Peggy glances around and risks a light kiss near the corner of Angie's mouth in response.  
  
“So home then?” Something flickers across Angie's face before it settles into the warmest smile Peggy can ever recall seeing.  
  
“Yeah English, home.”

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> che cozz - the context I used it in this chapter is equivalent to dafaq
> 
> I am not and never have been a part of any military organizations what I have is spent nearly a decade of my life in marching band so if the commands I used were inaccurate that's on me. To be quite honest idek if they're accurate for marching band, I only spent five of those years seriously marching and while my roll step is now impeccable and I can jazz run backwards(file under least favorite drill moments) I was always a little hazy on the commands themselves.
> 
> In the same vein I know Peggy started out in British Armed Forces Special Air Forces which from my understanding is similar to the U.S. as far as you start out in a branch like the marines or army and then track to special forces. If I have that completely wrong apologies. 
> 
> I hope that Angie's conversation with Ms. Fry isn't too ooc, that was actually one of the very first scenes that I wrote and it was long before I included the other Griffith girls and the few other instances of Ms. Fry. My hope was that Fry's scene with Peggy coupled with my rambly headcanon notes made it believable.
> 
> So as a NYC native (Brooklyn represent)(and now Queens I suppose) I felt responsible for trying to make locations as accurate as possible which is why I smacked my friend with a pillow when I was discussing my personal vendetta on finding the SSR office location only for her to casually say 'oh yeah I'm pretty sure it's in union square on 14th street, my grandfather used to work at the new york bell company before they moved and my sister went to the building recently I could be wrong but I think she has pictures'.........thanks dude where were you 3 chapters ago when I was screaming into the tumblr void annnnyway.
> 
> As for things relevant to this chapter I figure the building our vintage gal pals move into is the same one Peggy looked at in the third episode and the building they used for that exterior shot happens to be The crown building on 5th avenue in between 56th and 57th street. However that location was not jiving for me for a myriad of reasons, including but not limited to it's close proximity to the theater district ~~(I mean even the upper east side isn't that far from the theater district and it's pretty close to The Griffith on 63rd which is the real life location of the Barbizon it was based off of, I kind of sensed Peggy being cheeky/a tad sarcastic when she says it's a bit far from the theater district but what do I know, maybe they weren't even in supposed to be in manhattan anymore)~~ and thus I've sort of decided it's the same building but instead of midtown it's on the upper east side which is where I got the estimate of how far it'd be to the Brooklyn bridge. I spent an embarrassing amount of time obsessing over stupid little location things throughout this story that have limited bearing on the overall plot.
> 
> And If anyone is curious about what Angie considers the best pizza in Brooklyn it's[ L&B Spumoni Gardens](http://www.spumonigardens.com) seriously if you're ever in the neighborhood go check them out cause they're awesome. I was looking for a staple that's still arourd today and I figured lemme check L&B and when I found out they'd been in that location since 1939 I was super hyped and that's this chapter's fun fact.
> 
> Bonus fact is that the garage the original owner started making pizza in is on the same block where I grew up/my grandmother still lives which is where I based Angie growing up so the more you know :)
> 
> I think that sums up my typical insane authors notes again thank you all so much for your support of this fic. I'm terrible at responding to comments but I will get around to it but each one has meant the world especially while pushing myself to write this chapter. I apologize for it taking so long I did I struggle a lot with getting this chapter written. Break up's suck *headdesk*.
> 
> Final PSA don't attempt to climb the Brooklyn Bridge today they will arrest your ass and slap you with a bunch of scary charges because 'national security'.

**Author's Note:**

> Fun fact the Catholic hs I went to made us pray at the beginning of every class....most teachers went with the Hail Mary.....in latin...sooooo that's why Angie's saying it in latin because it's forever burned into my brain. Also in the 40's lots of Catholic churches would have still conducted the masses primarily in Latin, hell the real church Angie's school is based off of still did that when my dad was a kid in the late 60's so fun? facts.
> 
> I live for bisexual Peggy Carter and Steve Rogers. Angie is hella gay. She's just a giant adorable lesbian.
> 
> I headcanon Howard as pansexual with a preference for women, I can never quite decide if I think that Bucky is gay, bi or pan so I usually end up waffling between bi/pansexual and Steve-romantic...
> 
> Jack could probably be gay, in my head Daniel is definitely Bisexual.
> 
> I also really like the idea of asexual Dottie, who struggles with the things she's had to do because red room trained her to use her precieved sexuality as a weapon.When she defects to shield she finds herself falling for Prvt. Lorriane romantically and it really messes with her after all of her red room trauma because she doesn't understand what she's feeling. She can be anybody she wants...except herself, red room took that from her. Joining SHEILD is the first step to taking it back, to creating _herself_. Angie helps her alot, they're bffs much to Peggy's chargain. Lorriane totally reciprocates the feels and they make one of the most efficient, bloody terrifying teams SHIELD has ever seen
> 
> Demisexual Jarvis!
> 
> I also love the idea of FTM transgender Steve, like it's a large part of why he grew up always getting into fights. And okay sure he has plenty of medical issues but they won't even let him apply to join up. He tries to once and almost gets thrown into prison for his efforts. It makes him so angry, he's just this tiny ball of rage because he's a man goddamnit and all he wants to do is fight in his father's unit to defend the ideals the country is _supposed_ to stand for. He still runs into Erskine and they manage to get him into the program by doctoring some of his papers. Erskine warns him that he truly doesnt know what results the formula would have on him so if he wants to back out... but Steve clings to Erskine telling him the formula magnifies whatevers on the inside and sure he's got a strong will and hes smart and just but he's also a boy so....  
>  In the future Steve tirelessly advocates for LGBTQIA+ rights with an emphasis on trans. The first time a conservative republican tries to claim him for some bigoted agenda Steve shuts that down immediately. He proudly comes out as trans and bi, he's ecstatic to discover all of the resources out there for the community, less so when he finds the statistics for trans violence. He throws himself into activism when he's not avenging, organizing and attending protests and fundraisers, pushes for legislation. He finds out that after Peggy retired from SHIELD she pushed for them to include his trans identity in the museum and history books, knowing how much it would mean to him be a symbol trans youth could look up to. He does everything he can to live up to that symbol, from using his influence and connections to try and make the world a better place to personally spending time with as many of these kids he can to make their worlds a better place.
> 
> M'kay so maybe one of my fav things. I really like Miriam Fry, her scene w/ Peggy at the beginning of ep 4 never fails to crack me up. Now I propose to you asexual aromantic Miriam Fry. She grew up in a small town where everyone expected her to do the proper thing get married and have children. She tries, really tries but she can never get over the feeling of wrongness.She studies everything she can get her hands on psychology...philosophy while everyone tells her how unbecoming that is of a young lady. When it becomes apparent she won't have a choice except to marry one of the local boys she flees to NY, pretends to be a widow and starts cultivating a respectable reputation. She eventually opens The Griffith Hotel for Women she uses society's strict code of moral conduct concerning women to create the kind of safe place she wish was available to her as a young woman.Many girls who are 'different' find their way to the safety of those walls. Over the years she falls into the role of strict overbearing proprietress hung up on propriety and protecting a woman's virtue. If the girls think she's too extreme so be it, it's a necessary evil and she only seeks to protect them in her own way. Besides she's more than happy to serve as a scapegoat, to provide a respectable cover for women to turn down unwanted advances from men because their land lady is a dragon and won't hesitate to throw them out. It's worth the nasty reputation if she can help even one girl escape a doomed fate, she sleeps easy knowing she's helped many.


End file.
